


Altar of Storms

by VelkynKarma



Series: Friends in Space Places [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragons, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, How to Train Your Dragon AU, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: The Galra tribe has been spreading like a plague across the archipelago, leaving destruction in their wake. Man alone can't stop them—but perhaps man and dragon together, can. After over a century of warring between them, perhaps it's time for the age of riders to return.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic VLD Week #7: AU!
> 
> We’re going full-blown Dreamworks and Netflix-original series with a How To Train Your Dragon AU, because they currently own my soul, apparently.

“Is this… _thing_ going to be big enough to hold all of us?”  
  
It’s not that Katie—Pidge, to most of her friends—exactly _distrusts_ Keith. She doesn’t know him personally all that well, but Matt is vouching for him, and he _did_ just save them in the middle of this disastrous rescue attempt for Shiro.   
  
Except none of them had really expected that rescue to come with, well, a _dragon_. Much less a Monstrous Nightmare.   
  
It’s smaller than the average Nightmare, but that still means it towers over all of them, and even the _smallest_ of the Nightmares can still eviscerate a sheep in about ten seconds or less. They’re the wildest, most primal, most instinctive and bloodthirsty dragons around, and they never back down from a fight until they’re dead or you are.  
  
And Keith’s _riding_ it, like it’s no big deal.  
  
“No,” Keith answers shortly. He looks distinctly displeased as he sits on the creature’s neck on a makeshift saddle, fingers wrapped around its massive twisted horns. The Nightmare growls, and twists its head sharply, smacking Keith in the side of his face with one of the horns, and Keith yelps. After a moment, he amends, “Yes.”   
  
Pidge swears the dragon looks smugly satisfied with itself. She’s not sure if that’s a good thing. She still hasn’t figure out if it’s happy because it’s proving it can do something difficult, or if it’s because it’s getting a very large dinner.  
  
“Guys, I hate to interrupt or whatever, but we’ve got trouble coming!” Lance shouts. He’s got his back to the rest of them, facing back towards the buildings and enclosed paths they’ve finally escaped, bow drawn and arrow nocked. He’s not wrong—a dozen of these Galra clansmen are already running towards them, weaponry raised and yelling angrily.  
  
“Okay, dragon says it can handle it, so let’s go, let’s go!” Matt all but yelps. He clambers up on the Nightmare’s back, clinging to one of the wavy spines. The dragon shifts and growls low in its throat at the movement, but Keith leans forward and mutters something to it, and it stills enough for Pidge to scramble up after her brother. They each grab a spine, and Matt adds, “Hand him up to us, quick!”  
  
Hunk obliges, shifting the unconscious Shiro off his shoulder and pushing him up towards the siblings. Pidge reaches out and manages to catch Shiro under one arm, and Matt grabs the other one. They drag him between them and secure him more carefully by locking their arms with his. Shiro flops like a rag doll against Matt, all but dead to the world, but at least he’s not _actually_ dead. They’d been in time enough for that at least, even if the _rest_ of this mission had been a total disaster.   
  
Pidge is starting to wonder if the village elders had maybe had a point. They hadn’t been willing to immediately strike at this new, strange clan spreading across the archipelago until they had more information. Matt had brought word of the attackers when he’d washed up on shore after being lost at sea for months, but they’d wanted to get a better scope of the whole mess before committing to an attack. But Matt had insisted they _had_ to go back, Shiro was still there, and their father, and they couldn’t _wait_ , it would be too late then.   
  
So he’d recruited Pidge, and her friends from the village, Lance and Hunk. A stealth mission would be easy. They could sneak in, break her father and Shiro free, and sneak out. But they hadn’t counted on not finding her father on the island Matt directed them to, or on their boat being discovered, or on Shiro being unconscious and missing half his right arm when they found him. If Keith hadn’t shown up when he did, on a gods-damned _dragon_ , they’d probably all be dead.   
  
Not that there’s not _still_ a chance to all be dead. “Hurry,” Keith snaps, as his Nightmare snarls at the enemies. Hunk clambers up on the Nightmare’s back next, sitting the farthest back. Lance fires off a pair of arrows, knocking a few throwing weapons out of enemy viking hands, and then whips around to lock wrists with Hunk, who pulls him up on the dragon near him.   
  
As soon as Lance is clear, Keith hisses, “Fire stream,” and the Nightmare roars and spits a thirty foot jet of flame at the approaching enemies. They yell in surprise and pain as they dart out of the way, some with clothes or weapons on fire. Keith tugs on the Nightmare’s horns, and it lumbers into action even as he calls over his shoulder, “Hang on!”  
  
The Nightmare leaps, and its powerful wings flap, but it only makes it a few feet in the air before collapsing back to the ground with an earth-shattering _thud_. It growls, and scuttles forward several feet at an awkward run before leaping in the air again, to the same effect.  
  
“They’re catching up,” Hunk yelps frantically, clinging to one of the Nightmare’s spines as he looks back over his shoulder. “That fire didn’t slow them long!”  
  
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Lance yells.  
  
“You wanna jump off and lighten the load, be my guest!” Keith shoots back tersely. “You try carrying six people!”  
  
Which was sort of what Pidge was getting at earlier, really, but she has enough grace to not yell ‘I told you so’ while being chased by armed combatants.   
  
“You just need a little help, don’t you girl?” Keith says. Pidge barely hears him over the yells of the vikings behind them; the words are clearly intended for his dragon, and she’s just lucky enough to overhear. “Just a little momentum, a little uplift… _there!_ ”  
  
He twists the Nightmare’s horns, and she turns and rockets forward on awkward mis-matched limbs, towards—oh, _no._   
  
“Guys?” Matt asks, looking increasingly alarmed. “Are we running straight towards a cliff?”  
  
“Yup,” Keith answers. It’s almost conversational. Pidge swears he’s grinning.  
  
“Are you _crazy?”_ Lance snaps. “Your dragon can’t fly and you want to run us off a cliff?”  
  
The Nightmare roars in protest, and Keith scowls as he looks over his shoulder. “That dragon’s saving your ass, so shut up, trust us, and _hang on.”_  
  
The last, Pidge realizes, is said approximately five seconds before the dragon reaches the edge of the cliff and launches with one powerful leap off its edge. She screams, because that’s the only intelligent reaction, really, but she also has enough presence of mind to tighten her grip around the spine in her left hand and Shiro’s arm in her right, and she can feel Matt doing the same on the other side. The last thing they need is to lose the unconscious guy in a freefall after leaping off a cliff hundreds of feet in the air on the back of an overburdened dragon.  
  
If they live through this, this is going to be one _hell_ of a story to tell her tribe one day.  
  
She’s not the only one screaming. Everyone else is, except Shiro (obviously) and Keith (less obvious). Keith seems focused, and leans forward towards his dragon’s head, horns tight in a white-knuckled grip. The Monstrous Nightmare’s wings are folded close to her body, and she’s dropping like a stone, nose pointed straight at the jagged rocks and ocean waves below.  
  
Pidge is considered to be fairly intelligent amongst the vikings on their island back home, and she’s pretty sure diving straight at the ground is the exact _opposite_ of flying.  
  
But Keith seems to know what he’s doing and it’s not like they have any other choice but to trust him now, as asked. And lo and behold, at exactly the right moment, he pulls back on the horns and yells, _“Now!”_ And the Monstrous Nightmare, in a shocking display of maneuverability Pidge hadn’t thought _possible_ for such a massive beast, wrenches its whole body back suddenly and spreads its wings wide. The kickback from the sudden resistance is incredible, and Pidge grunts in pain as she nearly cracks her head against he creature’s scales, and she can feel everyone else crashing into each other.   
  
But it _works._ The dragon converts all that momentum and energy into lift, and glides on her massive wingspan, soaring just over the water. The speed seems to send her slingshotting back into the air, now that she’s actually _in_ flight, and she blasts upward and away. Pidge glances back, and her last view of the Galra outpost is tiny flickering torches and the faintest of angry yells. Then they’re in the clouds, and visuals of that awful place are gone.  
  
“I cannot _believe_ that worked,” Lance says incredulously.   
  
“I told you to trust us,” Keith says, sounding both smug and a little irritated. The Monstrous Nightmare roars in agreement, and he leans forward to pat her on the head. “Don’t listen to him. You were amazing, Red. You did a great job.”   
  
And Pidge, well, she definitely doesn’t distrust Keith. That’s twice now he’s saved their lives, with a dragon no less. And the dragon-riding thing is a little crazy, but…  
  
But she exchanges glances with her brother over Shiro’s head, and he’s just as wide-eyed and excited looking at the realization that _they’re riding on the back of a gods-damned dragon_ , and Pidge thinks that maybe this is a kind of crazy she could get behind.  
  


* * *

 

Keith’s home is a tiny little otherwise-uninhabited island. It’s not on any of the charts, and there aren’t any other humans on it, or other dragons. The only signs of habitation are from Keith himself. He’s got a small hut, a tiny storage shed for keeping food and supplies, and an even tinier garden. It’s right near a cave that clearly plays home to his dragon, and he’s got plenty of supplies for caring for her, but that’s about the extent of it.  
  
It seems lonely, at least to Hunk. But he’s grown up in a village all his life, and he values that sense of community. Keith obviously never did, or he wouldn’t have left the day the oracles spoke of a longboat lost at sea.   
  
Keith makes them pile off of Red to let the dragon rest, not that any of them are complaining. Hunk’s glad to get off the beast, himself. When she soars it isn’t so bad, but flying is _not_ fun with all that constant flapping and the nauseated feelings he gets watching the horizon bob up and down uncomfortably. He’s already thrown up twice over the side of the dragon just on the way here. He’ll keep his feet on the ground, thank you very much.   
  
He pokes through Keith’s storage shed while Keith and Matt are getting Shiro situated in the hut and giving him medical attention. Shiro hadn’t woken at all during the flight out, and he’d had some awful injuries when they found him. Most of his right forearm is just gone, up to almost his elbow. There’s an awful gash across his face that looks like it’s still healing, and dozens of bruises and bumps, and his fringe of hair has turned white somehow. It makes Hunk worried, but Matt’s trained with the village healers; it’s one of the reasons he went on the voyage. If anyone can fix Shiro up he can. And in the meantime, Hunk can help with the other half.   
  
Lance joins in Hunk’s search, and helps him pull apart all the neat stuff in the shed—food, tools, weapons, shields, armor. It’s small, but Keith’s still got a lot of things in here. Keith himself comes out halfway through and looks irritated with the pair of them for digging through his stuff, but quiets when he realizes what Hunk is up to, and grudgingly permits it. Then he climbs on his dragon and disappears into the horizon.  
  
But it’s his house, so he’ll be back. Probably.  
  
Hunk finds what he needs with Lance’s help, and he’s almost put the finishing touches on his little project when Matt exits the hut. “Just gotta wait for him to wake up now,” he says with a sigh, as he sits down on a stump near his sister.   
  
(Hunk still thinks it’s crazy how similar those two look, even when Pidge’s hair is currently tied back in a classic viking braid, and Matt’s had been sheared short from his captivity. It’s no surprise people think they’re twins so often, even when they’re a couple years apart).   
  
“What do you think?” Hunk asks, holding up his project for inspection. It’s nothing fancy, just a hook Shiro can use in place of his right hand for now. If Hunk had access to a proper forge he could make a better one, and maybe Pidge can help him come up with some good designs; she’s always good at making up mechanical plans and brainstorming new concepts. But for now it will at least let Shiro cap the stump of his arm, protect it from taking a beating, and still give him something he can at least kind of maneuver objects with.   
  
“Not bad, considering,” Matt says, which is just about how Hunk feels. He nods to himself, and finishes putting the final pieces together.   
  
It’s not long after that when Keith returns, riding Red. That he came back isn’t surprising; what is surprising is that he came back with _dinner_. Hunk can feel his mouth watering at the sight of the fat boar clutched in the Monstrous Nightmare’s talons, but even so he doesn’t miss the fact that Keith found game big enough for everyone. He might _act_ like a lone wolf, but he’s still thinking of the others. Hunk has never really known him well before this, but he decides the guy is okay now.  
  
Hunk assists with prepping dinner, and Red helpfully provides a cooking fire. She still seems a little uneasy with so many humans present, and sticks near Keith or keeps an eye on them constantly, but she doesn’t seem quite as aggressive as she had been when she first showed up with Keith on her back. Frankly, Hunk is stunned to see a Monstrous Nightmare being even neutral about interacting with people. He’d always learned they were wild, rabid beasts, the worst of the dragons that attacked the village. Red is prickly, but she doesn’t seem _savage._   
  
Hunk wonders about that, and wonders if the things they’ve learned about dragons are as accurate as he first thought.  
  
Shiro wakes just as dinner finishes, and stumbles weakly out of the hut looking confused and exhausted. He’s a mess of bandages, especially his right arm, and he looks dead on his feet, but he’s awake. That’s such a relief after finding him unconscious in a cell at the Galra outpost. Hunk won’t ever forget that image; it had scared him to death, to think they’d been too late.   
  
“What…what’s going on?” Shiro asks, looking around at them all in confusion. “Where…where are we? This isn’t the outpost, or the village, or…” His eyes widen in alarm as he spots Red, and even as exhausted as he is he falls into a combat crouch, one remaining arm raised and at the ready. “ _Dragon!_ Run!”  
  
Red bristles at the noise, pupils shrinking to slits, and her massive head raises in the air as she snarls warningly. Shiro looks fully ready to engage in order to give them time to run, and Hunk is impressed at how much control he seems to have and how willing he is to fight for them despite clearly being so confused. But this is a situation that can’t end well, and Hunk watches the aggressive dragon very nervously.  
  
Keith puts an end to it, fortunately. He leaps between man and dragon, and holds out his hands to both. “Wait! Wait,” he yells, and Red snarls again but lowers her head a little, eyes narrowed but not as aggressive. Shiro’s stance raises a little, and in the moment of confusion Keith says, “Red’s with me, Shiro. She’s my partner. She won’t hurt anybody here as long as we’re all on the same side.”   
  
Woe betide anybody who betrays Keith, apparently. Hunk shudders at the thought of what that dragon might do to them, but probably it won’t be pleasant. At least he’s on Keith’s good side, and has no interest in or need to turn on him, especially after he saved their butts twice.   
  
“Keith?” Shiro frowns in confusion. “Why do you have a _dragon?_ ”  
  
This is the question _everyone_ has been tossing around since their arrival on the island, but Keith has been absent for most of it rustling up some grub, so he hasn’t been able to answer yet. Everyone turns to stare at him, and Keith glances around at them all, and sighs. “Sit down, Shiro, you look exhausted. Everyone start eating the stew Hunk made, and I’ll explain.”  
  
And even if it’s a bit tired and begrudging sounding, Keith’s true to his word. He explains while eating his own meal and tossing bits of roasted boar into Red’s mouth. “After the oracles said they’d seen visions of your ship sinking, I left the island,” he says, glancing at Shiro and Matt. “I was trying to find you. I didn’t want to believe…well. You know. So I stole a boat and set out to search. Only there was a storm, and I got shipwrecked. On this island, actually.” He gestures absently around him. “I was trying to get off of it on my own, build another boat or something so I could escape. But I also had to eat, and there’s a lot of wild boar on this island, so I also did a lot of hunting. That’s where I met Red.”  
  
The Nightmare makes a rumbling noise in her throat that Hunk swears is ‘contentment,’ and nudges Keith’s side with her nose. He absently slides an arm over her long snout and rubs a hand along her scales, and her eyes fall half closed in bliss. Hunk is struck by how natural it all looks, how easily Keith interacts with this massive fiery beast that’s supposed to bring nothing but death and destruction. At how passive she is with him, at how loyal and protective she clearly is. The others are clearly impressed too, watching in awe, although Hunk swears he catches a hint of jealousy in Lance’s face.  
  
“She was hunting too,” Keith continues, still stroking the dragon’s scales as he speaks. “We were after the same food, which meant we were enemies. And we were both hungry, and we were both scared of what the other one would do to us, so we were enemies with nothing to lose. We fought. A lot.” He shrugs. “At first it was just kill or be killed, but neither of us could ever quite beat the other one. Some days she’d steal my kills, some days I’d get to the boar first, some days we’d beat each up so badly neither of us got to eat. And eventually we just kinda…grew to respect each other, I guess. She never gave up and kept fighting to hold her own and I respected that. And I guess she thought the same about me.” He scratches behind her horns affectionately, and offers a rare, tiny smile. “We started to get along more. Work together to hunt. Share the kills. She got injured once and I wrapped up her foot and brought her food. I got sick and she defended me until I was better. After that it just kinda naturally progressed and she let me fly with her.”  
  
His smile melts away, and he looks more serious as he stares across the open cooking pit at Shiro. “She’s been helping me look for you. I’ve been exploring all the islands around here, just… _looking_. We finally figured out really recently that you were moved to that Galra clan outpost, but we couldn’t figure out how to get in. It was so heavily armed, there were too many people. Even more than a Nightmare could handle. But then _these_ guys attacked and tried to free you, and I saw my chance.” He gestures at the others. “So. Thanks for that, I guess.”  
  
“Okay, that’s cool and all, but one important question,” Lance says, and yeah, Hunk is _definitely_ not mistaking that little edge of jealousy in Lance. Lance has always considered Keith a rival back at their village, through all the combat and fishing and hunting and sailing practice, even if Keith never really returned the sentiment. It must be killing him to know his rival has now bonded with an incredibly powerful and admittedly very _awesome_ dragon when he has no way to do the same. It’s the biggest in-your-face that Keith never intended to make, and Lance isn’t going to take it silently, Hunk is sure. Lance scowls as he gestures at the Monstrous Nightmare and says, “The most dangerous and deadly of all dragons, and you had to go with ‘Red’? That’s it? That’s the best you could come up with?”  
  
“She’s red,” Keith says, looking a little confused, as if this ought to explain everything and he’s not sure why it doesn’t.  
  
“It’s too _obvious_ ,” Lance says. “It’s not awesome enough. It could’ve been, I don’t know, Blazewing or Emberfang or Fireflash or _anything else_ but you went with ‘Red.’”  
  
“She doesn’t seem to mind it,” Keith says, now scratching the dragon under the chin. The content rumbling grows louder and she manages to shove her head into his lap, twisting her serpentine head to allow it while still sitting behind him. Hunk winces at the way Lance’s lips seem to press together. Keith probably isn’t doing it on purpose, but seeing him interact with the dragon like this has got to look like deliberate showing off to Lance. “Besides, I don’t think she’d answer to anything else at this point. Huh, Red?”  
  
The dragon lets out a _wuff_ of agreement. Lance scowls and crosses his arms, muttering under his breath, “Guy gets a huge fire breathing monster for a pet and he can’t even figure out how to give it a cool name, some guys just don’t deserve the cool things the gods give them…”  
  
Keith, thankfully, doesn’t seem to hear him over the Nightmare’s rumbling.  
  
Shiro puts an end to it, fortunately. He’s looking much better after the food and a chance to just sit, even if he does still look pretty awful after the beating he’s taken. “Regardless of how it happened, thank you all for rescuing me,” he says, glancing around at them all. Matt grins, and Pidge’s grin next to him is almost identical. Hunk nods, Lance offers a mock salute, and Keith looks solemn.   
  
“But I don’t think we’re done yet,” Shiro adds, looking serious, and the smiles slowly start to melt off everyone’s faces. “We might have escaped the Galra tribe, but they’re still a threat. I don’t think they intend to stop spreading until all the seas and everything in them belongs to _them_. Our island is in danger.”  
  
“Then we go back and warn’em,” Lance says, as if this is obvious. “We’ll need to leave this guy behind, though, they won’t take kindly to dragons back home.” He jerks a thumb at Keith. Red’s content look disappears and her purring turns into a low growl. The sound is reflected in Keith’s scowl as he glares back at Lance.  
  
“Nobody is leaving anybody behind,” Shiro says firmly. “Not if they don’t want to be.”  
  
“Well we don’t have a boat,” Pidge says practically. “Keith said he couldn’t get off the island without Red.”  
  
“We could build one,” Matt says. “Keith probably had too much to worry about before, what with surviving and protecting himself from a dragon. But it sounds like him and Red basically control this island now, and all its resources are ours. We could probably get a boat built in what, a week or two?” He glances between Pidge and Hunk.   
  
“Not a pretty one,” Hunk affirms, “but it’d get us back home.”  
  
“Home wasn’t what I had in mind,” Shiro says, very softly. Hunk blinks at the quietness of it. Shiro’s staring into the flames of the campfire, almost as though hypnotized, and he clutches his bowl of stew in one hand like a lifeline. They have to lean forward to hear him. “There’s something else. Something…something important. I’m not sure what it is, or who it is, but the Galra are searching for it everywhere. One of their oracles saw it in a vision. I overheard her speaking. They’re…they’re crazy for it. Some sort of weapon, or guardian, or _something_. Something that has the ability to give them inhuman power, or something that can break their armada completely.”   
  
He blinks, and it’s almost like he slips out of a trance as he turns to look around at them all. “I don’t know what it is. But I think we need to get to it before they do. I’m not sure if we can use this… _whatever_ it is…but at the very least I know we don’t want them to get their hands on it. If they do, our island, and lots other lands around us, are going to get overwhelmed.”  
  
There’s an awful silence that fills the air, broken only by the gentle _snap-pop_ of the campfire. Even the dragon is silent.   
  
After a very long moment, Lance asks slowly, “And that means…what? Where is this thing? Would we…would we not be going home at all?” He swallows.   
  
“Maybe.” Shiro stares up at the sky for a moment. When he looks back down around at them all again, his face is more composed, more controlled. “Look. I can’t ask any of you to do this if you’re not interested. If you want to go home, I won’t stop you. If you do go home, I’ll ask that you warn everyone to be ready. But this…this is something I have to do. I think it’s the only way to protect our home, and others as well. I have to see this through. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”   
  
“I’m with you,” Keith says immediately. “Wherever you want to go. Red, too. She’ll help us get there.” The dragon lets out a low growl of agreement.   
  
“I did not organize a rescue mission and come all this way just to split up again now,” Matt says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m in, too. Whatever we’re in for.”  
  
“Besides, we still need to find our father,” Pidge adds. “He wasn’t at that camp with you. But maybe whatever we’re looking for can help us find him. Or we can use it to beat back the Galra tribe, and rescue the prisoners. So I’m in, too.”  
  
They turn to look at Hunk, and Lance, sitting next to him. Lance fidgets under the stares, and looks hesitant for a moment, biting his lip. But after a moment he says, “These guys really aren’t going to stop, are they?”  
  
“I’ve never known them to,” Shiro says. “Even for vikings, they’re bloodthirsty. They’ve slaughtered their way through every island they’ve come across. Killed any resisting warriors, and take the remainder for slave labor. I don’t think our island will be spared if they find it.”  
  
Lance’s mouth sets in a hard line. After a moment he nods, looking grimly determined. “I don’t want to leave my family behind, but…I don’t want them to go through that, either. Most of my siblings are too young to have any combat experience yet. I can’t…I can’t let them get taken like that. So…I’m in.” He taps his quiver. “But I’m gonna need more arrows first.”  
  
“I’ve got some bundles of arrows you can take,” Keith says. “Not a fan of bows.”   
  
Lance scowls at him, like this is a personal insult. Keith doesn’t notice—he, and everyone else, are already looking at Hunk.  
  
And Hunk is…well, he’s not so sure about this whole thing. He was willing to help Pidge, because Pidge was a friend and she was worried about her father, and her brother was important to her too and Matt had been so frantic. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But Hunk had only signed up for a rescue, not a full-scale voyage. He’d never even had a chance to tell his mother and father where he’d disappeared to. He was supposed to only be gone for a single night.   
  
And to try and beat some extra bloodthirsty viking clan to some kind of secret weapon, just to fight them off? Hunk has never really been partial to combat, personally. He knows how, and he’s well trained in bows and axes, has been put through his paces by his father until he can hold his own. His clan is especially skilled with shields, too, using them as a weapon and defense both, and he’s confident in his skills there. But Hunk has never really looked forward to battle with vikings or with dragons. He’s always enjoyed the forge much more—creating things that other people can use. He’s not sure there’ll be much use for _creating_ in a wild chase like this.   
  
But as much as he doesn’t like the sound of it…Lance is also right. Hunk might not want this fight, but he doesn’t want his family to suffer for it, either. He doesn’t want his homeland to be overrun by this bloodthirsty Galra clan and see his village burned to the ground or his family dragged away in chains. They probably only have so much time to find this _whatever_ it is before the Galra do, and they’ll probably need every bit of help they can get. Hunk doesn’t like it, but if he can protect his family and his home even a little bit…  
  
He sighs. “Okay. I’m in, too.”  
  
Shiro smiles. “Great. Then we’re officially a team on this. Whatever happens, we’re not going to let these Galra clansmen get away with what they’ve been doing.”  
  
“That’s great and all,” Hunk says, “But—and I hate to be the voice of reason here, but nobody else has brought it up—where do we even _start_ looking for this…whatever it is?”  
  
“That’s…actually a good question,” Matt says, as all of them turn to look at Shiro. “Any starting points?”  
  
“The visions I overheard,” Shiro says. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, like he’s trying to remember. “The oracles…they said something about…traveling to the land of stars. And…how did they put it…’cutting spines that reach the skies guard the path to the altar of storms.’ “ He opens his eyes and glances around at them all. “That’s it. That’s all I was able to overhear, but they said it a lot. It must be important, but I got the feeling they didn’t know what it meant, or how to get there.”  
  
“I’ll say,” Lance snorts. “The land of stars? Are we supposed to go up there?” He gestures at the mid-afternoon sky. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure even with a dragon we’re not going to reach the stars.”   
  
“It might not mean the stars themselves,” Keith says, looking thoughtful. “What if it’s the shape of the land?”   
  
When they give him curious looks, he grabs a stick, and sketches in the dirt next to the fire pit. “When I was searching for Shiro with Red, there was an island that kind of looked like this from above. It had sheer cliff faces, so I never bothered to explore it, since there was no way anybody could shipwreck on it. But maybe there’s something there?” He finishes the rough sketch in the dirt, and the shape does look a bit like a starburst.   
  
“It’s possible,” Shiro agrees. “How far is it? Do you think Red can carry all of us there?”  
  
“It’s maybe a day’s flight by ourselves,” Keith says, scratching the Monstrous Nightmare at the base of her horns. “Maybe two with everyone else, as long as she can rest on some islands in between. She’s never carried that many people before last night.”   
  
“It’s as good a place to start as any,” Pidge says. “We don’t have any place better to start, unless we go back and try to spy on the Galra more.”  
  
“Agreed,” Shiro says. “Here’s the plan: we spend today getting supplies together and preparing to leave. Get whatever weaponry you have ready, pack food supplies, but remember we need to travel relatively light for Red’s sake. We leave at first light tomorrow, under the assumption that we’re not returning here any time soon.”   
  
Red _huffs_ in answer, and the others nod in acknowledgement. Shiro’s not a chief, or even in the same family as one, but he’s always been well respected in the village, and it just feels right to let him take charge. If Hunk is going to be a part of this, he definitely wants the best leading him, and they can’t go wrong with Shiro.   
  
“I’ll start putting together food packs,” Hunk says. The others split off to attend to their own tasks, and Hunk settles into his. He’s still not really enthusiastic about the whole thing, but if it keeps his family safe…  
  
He’ll do whatever he has to. Even chase an oracle’s cryptic words across the ocean.


	2. Skyscale

Two days later and crammed together awkwardly on the back of a Monstrous Nightmare, they get their first sight of the island.  
  
Keith isn’t wrong in that it _does_ look like a big star made out of land, sitting in the middle of a sky made out of ocean. And it doesn’t look like it would be terribly obvious to anyone sailing in ships at water level, which means the Galra clan might have a hard time figuring out this is the island they need even if they sailed right past it. That’s good, because it might buy them a little time.  
  
Lance can’t help but feel irritated that it’s stupid _Keith_ that once again saves the day, though. Why does this guy get to hog all the glory?   
  
Red touches down in the center of the island in an open expanse of green fields, and everyone slides off her back, hauling packs and weaponry with them. Keith immediately tends to his dragon, giving her a drink from his flask and coaxing her into resting. Lance feels a jealous twinge that he can’t quite fight back no matter how hard he tries, but he _does_ kind of feel sorry for Red, too. She’s been working really hard to carry them all for the past two days, and Lance can see the trip’s been tiring on her and Keith both. Not that either will admit to it.   
  
Lance grumbles under his breath.  
  
“Let’s see if we can find anything useful,” Shiro says, after the others have stretched and settled their bags and weaponry on their shoulders and belts. “We’re not sure what we’re looking for, so keep an eye out for anything that looks different or unusual.”   
  
“That vision you mentioned said something about an altar of storms,” Pidge offers. “Maybe something like that?”  
  
“It mentioned ‘cutting spines that reached the skies’ too,” Matt adds. “Mountains, maybe? Hills?”  
  
“There’s something that way,” Hunk says, pointing at a large rocky outcropping not too far distant. “Maybe that’s a good place to start.”  
  
They head in that direction, which is as good a place as any. Unfortunately, they don’t get very far before they’re greeted by the inhabitants of the island.   
  
The Deadly Nadders swarm out of nowhere. There’s so many of them, and in so many different colors, with vibrant scales that seem to glitter like jewels in the late afternoon sun. They move fast, darting with nimbleness and grace in the air, turning and diving in a flock all at once. Lance is reminded of flocks of jays and starlings back on their home island, and the way they always seem to know how to turn and dive and swarm in a group at the same time.  
  
And Lance is reminded of the way those same tiny birds are a threat to larger hawks and eagles, too, when they bombard the massive predators relentlessly to drive the hunters away from their nests. The Nadders circle overhead, twisting and spinning and diving, but Lance realizes that most of the dragons seem to have their eyes on one thing: the Monstrous Nightmare at the center of their vortex, and the humans surrounding it.   
  
Red seems to realize it too, and she is definitely not happy with this turn of events. She’s exhausted, but at the sudden arrival of dozens of Deadly Nadders her serpentine head draws up, and her pupils go to slits. She rears up onto her back legs, flaring her massive wings to their fullest and beating them savagely, nearly clipping Hunk and Shiro with her sharp wing-spines. The Nadders pull back slightly as they circle, wary now, and Red screams a challenge even as her skin starts to smolder and ignite.   
  
“Woah! Red, calm down!” Keith yells, reaching up for his dragon’s muzzle to try and bring some sense into her. But Red is clearly having none of it. Her rider has been threatened, and she seems ready to fight the entire pack of Nadders to defend him. She drops back to stand on all fours again, but her long, serpentine neck curls protectively around Keith, and her tail lashes angrily.   
  
Lance and the others back warily up against the Nightmare, facing outward, fingers edging towards weapons. “Cutting spines that reach the skies,” Matt mutters, as he clutches at his knife. “Oh. I think I get what that means now. Not mountains.”  
  
“If you could’ve figured that out earlier that would have been _really_ helpful,” Pidge snipes back at her brother.  
  
“Enough. Let’s not try anything too hasty until we see if we can get out of this without bloodshed,” Shiro warns, as he places his left hand on the sword strapped to his hip, but doesn’t draw. “A battle against dragons is going to be costly on both sides. Be careful.”   
  
But the movement only seems to agitate the Nadders further. Several of them land at a safe distance, but their long tails are raised, and the thick, dagger-like spines that normally lay flat along their scales are upright. They screech and flutter their wings, and dance back and forth on their claws.   
  
Even a week ago, Lance would have taken this as an aggressive display, and figured they had no way to get out of this without a hard fight. He’d already be putting an arrow to his bow to try and bring down one of these dangerous creatures to protect his clansmen before they got close.  
  
But Lance has spent several days in the company of a dragon now, and while he’s hardly an expert on dragons, it’s been enough to teach him that these creatures aren’t the violent, rabid beasts they’ve always been led to believe. And something about this doesn’t seem quite right. The Nadders are definitely not playing nice here, and they’re definitely still capable of seriously injuring any one of them if pushed to do so. But they don’t seem aggressive so much as anxious.   
  
And just when Lance thinks maybe he’s on to something, _she_ arrives.  
  
She’s a huge Nadder—way bigger than any others he’s seen, almost half again the size of the others surrounding them and fluttering about in the air. The rest of the dragons part almost deferentially to let her pass, and she’s clearly the strongest of the lot. Her scales are primarily a deep blue, but like all Nadders she’s speckled with other colors—primarily reds and silvers, in her case, mostly concentrated along her back, shoulders, and wings.   
  
Lance thinks she’s the prettiest dragon he’s ever seen in his life.   
  
Unlike the other Nadders, which still seem agitated and nervous, this one seems much more confident. She paces forward with wings and spiky crest flared wide in an aggressive challenge, tail upraised like a stinger, spines upright and ready to fire. She roars a challenge, and Red responds in kind, spitting a jet of flame before Keith can stop her.   
  
The Nadder dodges the shot, but Lance doesn’t miss the way it squawks and seems to check on its companions behind it before it whips around to face Red again. And suddenly, everything _clicks._   
  
The Nadder charges, and Red raises her serpentine head with an enraged roar, drawing breath for flame. Everyone else is drawing their weapons now, with conflict appearing imminent and unavoidable, and most of them look grim but determined.   
  
Lance raises his fingers to his lips, and lets out the loudest whistle he can manage.  
  
Everyone freezes. His friends, Red, the blue Nadder, the whole flock swarming them. Even the ones still fluttering in the sky startle for a moment before continuing to circle. Slowly, everyone turns to look at him. Lance ignores their stares, and instead looks straight at the big blue Nadder as he raises both hands to show he’s unarmed and sidles forward.  
  
The Nadder twitches warily, and her tail raises a little higher, ready to strike. Red growls low in her throat and shifts warningly. Lance hisses, “Keith, get your dragon under control before it gets us all _eaten,_ seriously. I don’t think these guys are trying to really hurt us. They’re just trying to protect their home, see?”  
  
Keith glares at him, which Lance barely catches out of the corner of his eye. He’s too busy staring right at the Nadder and trying to look as unthreatening as possible. But he hears Shiro say from behind, “He’s right, Keith. See if you can calm Red down,” and a few moments after that, shushing noises as Keith does what he can to reassure his dragon.   
  
The Nadder cocks her head and turns to stare at them with one large yellow eye. She seems to be considering.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Lance says encouragingly. “You’re just protecting your friends, isn’t that right, Beautiful? We get that. That’s what we’re here for, too. We just want to find what we’re looking for and then we’ll leave you guys alone. Nobody’s here to hurt anybody. Not even the big mean Nightmare.”  
  
He can feel Red’s hot breath on the back of his neck as she snorts. But he’s not worried. By now she knows better than to try eating Keith’s friends…however loose the ‘friend’ term might be in his and Lance’s case.   
  
And it seems to work. The Nadder turns her head to stare at them with the other eye, and flutters her wings. But after a moment her spiny crest and tail spikes start to lower, and the aggression is dialed down a notch. And as if that’s a sign, the rest of the flock around them also seems to calm, with spines retracting and uneasy body language reducing. Several of the dragons flutter off, while others watch warily from a distance.   
  
His friends sigh in relief. “That was too close,” Hunk groans. “If this is what this whole trip is going to be like, I’m suddenly a lot less on board with it.”  
  
“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Lance counters, still watching the big blue Nadder fondly. She hasn’t left yet, and she doesn’t seem scared of them. Brave and beautiful, this dragon is great.   
  
“Says the guy mooning over a dragon,” Pidge mutters.   
  
“Hey! I’ll have you know she’s a fierce warrior lady, and deserves a little admiration,” Lance counters, gesturing at the dragon. “Just look at her!”   
  
The Nadder squawks in agreement. Lance swears she’s preening. He’s gonna miss this dragon when they leave.  
  
“Alright,” Shiro says loudly, calling them back on task. “Since the dragons here seem more or less okay with us being here now, as long as we tone down on the aggression, let’s get to work. The faster we can get off this island, the faster we can leave them alone.” The others nod in agreement, and head off towards the rocky outcropping in the distance again. Lance follows, but can’t help but give Keith a smug smirk as he passes him and Red. Hah! Some dragon tamer, nearly got them all cooked—well, Lance can do it, too, so there.  
  
Keith rolls his eyes. Lance considers this a victory.   
  
As they get closer to the outcroppings, they start to realize that once upon a time, this place had been inhabited by more than just dragons. Any hint of wooden buildings is long gone, but there’s a deep chamber carved into the hills with worn statues and rusted metal hinges that looks an awful lot like their own great hall back home. It’s sort of crazy to think that vikings had lived here however long ago…decades, at least. Centuries, maybe.   
  
The Nadders have long since taken it over, turning it into a nesting site. They regard the vikings carefully, and the Monstrous Nightmare very warily. But Keith is muttering to Red constantly now, and this seems to be putting her on her best behavior.   
  
And it probably helps that the blue Nadder is with them, too.   
  
She’s been following them on foot, thudding after their group at a safe enough distance to keep an eye on them while not being in range of any attacks. Her presence seems enough to calm the other Nadders, especially when she’s not being aggressive with the humans. Lance figures she’s just guarding them to make sure they behave themselves around her friends, but he kind of likes the feeling of the dragon tailing along after them. If he tries he can pretend for a moment that she’s _his_ dragon, and a better dragon than Red will ever be.   
  
They don’t find any kind of ‘altar of storms’ inside the old great hall. But they do find the next best thing—an ancient-looking map scratched into the stone at the far back, detailing all of islands for miles around. It goes farther than anything they’ve ever seen or heard of on their home island, and even Shiro and Matt—the two who had been on an exploratory sail farther out than any of them have ever been until now—are startled by the complexity of it.  
  
“This is incredible,” Matt says in awe. He’s already pulled out parchments from the satchel he keeps medicinal herbs in, and is carefully copying the map’s details down for reference. “Look how far out these go! And there’s civilizations marked out here—and other kinds of dragons—look at all the places out there we could find!”  
  
Shiro is more focused on the mission at hand. “The path to the altar of storms,” he mutters under his breath. “Here,” he adds after a moment, gesturing to one island _very_ far from their position. “This is it. This is where we need to go. This is what the Galra are trying to find.”   
  
“That’s…that’s a long ways from here,” Hunk says, frowning. “Can we even make it that far? Nobody’s been out that way in…in centuries, probably.”  
  
“We have to try,” Shiro says firmly. “It’s our only option.”   
  
The others look grim, but nod in agreement.   
  
Their last order of business is to destroy the map on the wall, once Matt proclaims his copies complete. Keith finally lets Red cut loose, and she blasts away the stonework with her flames. The Nadders in the area start, but the blue Nadder squawks at them, and they settle down again. Only when all traces of the map are gone do they finally retreat from the hall.   
  
If the Galra _do_ find this place now, it won’t be of any help to them.   
  
They trek back to the open field where they first landed, and since it’s nearly dark by the time they’re finished, the opt to camp there for the night before moving on. The Nadders haven’t bothered them since the initial attack, and they figure it’s probably safe. They figure right, and they’re left alone all night. The only Nadder they see is the big blue one, which settles down just outside their little circle, closer than before but still not quite a part of them yet. It seems comfortable enough with them to sleep, at least, and Lance can’t help but be a little amused at how it roosts just like a bird, large spiny head tucked under one wing.   
  
It’s in the morning, when they’re all piling back on to a rested Red, that the Nadder finally comes closer still.   
  
It startles Red at first, who hisses warningly. Red has gotten more or less used to the Nadder following them around for the past day, but she’s always wary, and always finds ways to put herself between the dragon and Keith, and sometimes the others. She seems uneasy now, but Keith strokes her muzzle to calm her, and she settles after a moment.  
  
The Nadder squawks indignantly, dances back and forth on her talons, and looks agitated. But she’s not aggressive—she’s not raising her spines or spitting fire. Lance climbs down off of Red’s back, and the Nadder immediately quiets.   
  
“Lance, I think you’ve made a friend,” Hunk says, looking both bewildered and amused.   
  
“Wh—me?” Lance takes a few careful steps towards the dragon, barely daring to hope. She doesn’t react aggressively, and after a moment takes a tentative step forward, too. “Hey, Beautiful—you really want me to stay, huh? I’m sorry, but I really can’t. I gotta protect my family. You know how it is.”   
  
The dragon lets out a low, chirruping growl. Lance feels like she’s agreeing with him, but she doesn’t seem very happy.   
  
“You wanna come with?” he offers, heart beating fast. “We’re fighting some really, really nasty guys. They don’t like dragons _or_ us. Maybe we can both protect our homes together.”   
  
The Nadder turns to regard him with one large yellow eye. Lance hesitates, and then slowly holds out his hand to her. “Friends?”  
  
She hesitates for just a second. Then she presses her head against his hand. Lance’s eyes widen at the feel—the texture is completely different than Red. The Monstrous Nightmare has much coarser, rougher scales, but the Nadder’s are smooth and sleek, shiny and surprisingly warm to the touch. She presses her whole head more insistently into his hands, and he wraps both arms around her massive muzzle in a hug, scritching just underneath her jaw. “Hey, okay, okay! There’s plenty of attention to go around, promise. Welcome aboard, Beautiful.”   
  
And so Skyscale joins the team, and Lance immediately adores his dragon. She’s clever and quick and strong and gorgeous and there’s never been a dragon better. She’s got incredible firepower, and her aim with her spine-shots is on par with his own bow and arrows—she even supplies him with arrowheads whenever she sheds. They can give Keith and Red a run for their gold _any_ day, no questions, and they’ve already bonded so closely there’s no competition.   
  
And Lance meant what he told her, too. They’ve both got family to protect, and they’re both going to do it. _Together_. And if that family includes each other now, well, Lance has got no problem with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nadders are some of my favorite dragons in the series, and a Deadly Nadder seemed like a perfect match for Lance. Nadders are considered to be pretty and a bit vain, a little self-absorbed, but still very dangerous. Also, they are literal sharpshooters.


	3. The Lioness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! My power went out for few days. Makes it a mite difficult to upload fic. But we're back with another chapter now!

It takes nearly three weeks of flying and camping out on islands and sea stacks along the way, but eventually they reach the island that supposedly has this so-called ‘altar of storms.’   
  
It’s a long ways away, and Keith is actually impressed with their speed considering they’re transporting six people. Then again, the addition of Skyscale to the team _does_ help, when they can split up the weight of people and supplies between two dragons rather than one. Lance’s brash arrogance is a little obnoxious to have to deal with, especially when he tries to turn every aspect of dragon riding into a competition. But Keith does at least appreciate that for all his bragging he and his new Nadder do pull their own weight. Red can handle six people and all their supplies, but Keith could tell it had been exhausting her, and he doesn’t want her to wear out.   
  
But the journey goes relatively well, other than a few uneasy dragon encounters and other minor adventures. Shiro directs, and Matt takes it upon himself to map their progress and help with navigation. And at last, after three weeks, they finally arrive at the island that Matt says is called “Arus,” according to the map they found.  
  
It’s a beautiful island, seen from above. There’s a massive plateau at its highest point, with several other smaller mountainous areas surrounding it, and some forest land at the base of the mountains. The land swoops down on either side to form a massive crescent shape, with a large cove and beach inside the crescent. It looks peaceful, a beautiful place to call home, with all the necessities for survival.  
  
It also appears to be occupied—because as the dragons swoop down closer to the island and the cove, they notice there’s a ship moored there.  
  
It’s a massive ship—the biggest Keith has ever seen, bigger than even the largest of longboats from back home. It looks like there’s several levels below the main deck, which is itself large enough for all of their dragons and then some. Huge masts tower like trees, and there even appear to be other wooden pillars without sails or rigging that almost look like perches. There are siege weapons that look like massive bows and catapults set up on the deck.   
  
The whole thing looks incredible, but also appears to be in some serious disrepair. The wood looks rotted in some places and the folded sails look tattered. The siege equipment is clearly too broken to function. The entire ship lists awkwardly, and there appear to be holes in its sides, although fortunately for the ship, above water. One of the masts is broken halfway up, with the posts strewn awkwardly over the deck. It certainly has seen better days.  
  
The dragons circle above the ship, close enough that the riders can shout back and forth to each other. “What do we do?” Lance asks from the back of Skyscale. He, Hunk and Pidge stare over from the back of the Nadder towards Shiro, riding just behind Keith on Red.  
  
“Land, but be cautious,” Shiro decides. “I’ve never seen a ship like that—it might be the thing we’re looking for. But we don’t know if there’s anyone on it, or if they’re friend or foe. Be on guard.”  
  
“Got it,” Keith says, and pushes at Red’s horns. She understands the gesture well, and turns her nose down towards the ship. Keith leans with her, and he feels Matt and Shiro shift their weight behind him, trying to help the dragon however they can now that they’ve become more practiced passengers.   
  
To the right, Skyscale squawks and goes into a sharper nosedive, to the delighted whoops of Lance and Pidge. Hunk bellows in alarm and clings so hard to Lance’s shoulders he’s nearly unseated. But they make it to the deck first without losing any passengers, and Lance gives Keith a smug look as Red swoops in for her own landing.  
  
Keith rolls his eyes.  
  
The deck is empty at first glance, and after a moment the riders tentatively slide off the dragons. Hunk takes a moment to heave over the side of one of the decks, moaning and grumbling about Lance and his terrible flying. Pidge and Matt convene to study the strange massive crossbow contraption with interest, and the others pace around the deck, looking for signs of this fabled ‘altar of storms,’ or any kind of habitation.   
  
They find the latter, though not the way they’d intended.   
  
There’s a sudden, sharp snarl of, “Step away from those dragons at once!” and a strange clicking noise, and Keith freezes in the middle of examining the fallen mast. He whips around, and stares in surprise at the woman that’s now standing on deck.   
  
She’s tall, with dark skin and light eyes, and fully armored in well-made steel etched with strange designs of some sort of mythical creature, a massive wildcat of some sort. Although she looks relatively young, her hair is pure white, cascading loosely down her back and almost reaching her waist. There’s a massive spear in one hand, covered in delicate gold filigree, but the bladed edge is wicked and the woman holds it in a way that says she’s clearly familiar with the weapon.   
  
The rest of the team looks as startled as Keith feels, but hastily reach for their weapons. But there’s a _tut_ -ing noise from behind them, and a man’s voice says, “Now, now, none of that. I wouldn’t touch those weapons if I were you. Do as the princess commands.”   
  
Keith glances over his shoulder, and finds himself staring at the point of an arrow, loaded into a knocked and ready crossbow. His eyes trail up to the man holding it—a man with much paler skin than his companion, and reddish-colored hair and a mustache, both flecked with gray. This man is also armored, although less heavily than his companion, in leather instead of steel. He’s standing on the upper deck for vantage, and he definitely knows his way around the crossbow—which is aimed straight for Keith’s head.  
  
Red roars angrily, and immediately puts herself between the arrow and Keith, curling one spiked wing over him like a shield. Keith curses when he loses sight of the man, but if he turns his head he can still see the others. The woman has her spear pointed at Lance, but Skyscale leaps forward with a roar to put herself between her partner and the enemy, tail spikes raised and wings spread.   
  
“Dragons,” the woman says after a moment, “You are no longer enslaved, nor shall you be beasts of burden. You are free! You may do as you please.”  
  
But neither Red nor Skyscale leave.   
  
The woman turns her spear on the next closest individual, Matt, and Keith hears the man readjust his aim, although he can’t see who at with Red’s wing in the way. But Keith won’t stand for that. It’s a weird sort of crew he’s ended up working with, but after three weeks he’s sort of started to enjoy their company, and he doesn’t want to see anybody injured before they reach their goal.   
  
“Red,” he snaps, “Tail lash.”  
  
The Monstrous Nightmare responds immediately, whipping her tail out to knock the spear from the woman’s hand. At the same time, Lance must have had a similar idea, because Skyscale’s tail snaps like a whip, and several tail spikes lash out at lightning speed. The man on the upper deck curses as his crossbow is thrown off aim, and Keith hears the _twang_ as it shoots out into open air.   
  
Immediately, the rest of the team reconvenes in the center of the deck, with the two dragons circling them on either side, wings spread defensively. Keith stays by Red’s flank to direct her, and Lance has his hand on Skyscale’s leg in a show of support. The rest of the team draw their weapons and face outward, ready to fight.  
  
The two attackers look stunned at the response.  
  
“This makes no sense,” the woman says after a moment. She glances at her spear on the edge of the deck, but Red snorts warningly at her, and she remains in place. “Why do these dragons protect _vikings?_ Has the Galra Tribe learned to brainwash them somehow?”  
  
“Galra Tribe?” Matt asks indignantly. “You think we’re with _those_ guys?”  
  
“Lady, you’ve got things dead wrong,” Pidge agrees, scowling, as she brandishes her knife.   
  
Shiro, ever the calm voice of reason, cuts in before the woman and her companion can react violently. “These dragons fly with us willingly,” he says. “They’ve bonded to two of our number of their own accord. No one is enslaving anyone here.”  
  
The woman looks incredulous. “ _Vikings_ have bonded with _dragons?_ This I can hardly believe.” On the other side of the deck, her companion snorts in agreement.   
  
Keith narrows his eyes. “Red is my partner, and I trust her with my life,” he says hotly. Red blows out a hiss of steam from her nose in agreement, and growls low in her throat.  
  
“Same for me and Skyscale,” Lance agrees, patting his own dragon on the leg. The Nadder lets out a squawk of agreement, and raises her spike-laden tail warningly.   
  
The woman still looks stunned. After a moment, her companion says hesitantly, “They… _do_ look like they get along quite well, princess. The dragons are already protecting them…”  
  
“I can see that,” the woman says. She still looks stunned, but after a long moment, draws up out of her defensive posture into something regal. “Travelers, I apologize for the misunderstanding. If you have truly bonded with those dragons, then you are no threat to the throne of Altea, viking or no. It has been too long since we have witnessed proper dragon riders. Of late, all I have witnessed are slavers and thieves. This is…truly a sight I never thought the crown would see again.”  
  
Keith exchanges confused looks with Shiro, who shrugs. The others look equally confused—except for Matt, who’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Wait, did you say Altea? Like, _the_ Altea?”  
  
“Of course,” the man with the crossbow says, sounding amused. He sets the weapon down on a nearby crate, and reaches up to tug at his mustache. “I know of no other kingdom with such a fine reputation.”  
  
“Do you want to fill us in, Matt?” Shiro asks. He hesitates, then slides his sword awkwardly back into its scabbard with his left hand. The others take it as a cue, and slowly start putting away their own weapons. The dragons calm slightly as well, although neither moves from their defensive position between the strangers and their team.   
  
“Did you guys never listen to the traders when they came into port?” Matt asks, sounding exasperated. “Altea’s a kingdom way far away, on the mainland. It was a powerful kingdom with fierce trade—but it was destroyed over a century ago by invaders.”   
  
That would certainly explain her strange accent, and the man’s too, Keith notes. But not so much how she’s here if the kingdom died a century ago.  
  
Hunk’s eyes go wide. “Oh! I remember that story now!  And the traders told others, too. Stories about a ghost ship that wanders the ocean, carrying the last remnants of the royal family searching for vengeance against their invaders.”  
  
“Yeah,” Lance adds, a touch dreamily. “They say it’s manned by a fierce ocean queen, with hair of sea-foam and the temperament of the stormy sea, who hunts the descendants of the  invaders to this day—“  
  
He pauses in mid-legend, and as one they turn to stare at the woman. Hunk lets out a soft _meep_ of surprise and ducks down behind Skyscale’s tail.   
  
The woman smiles softly. “I assure you, I am no ghost, nor is my ship,” she says, looking vaguely amused. “Nor am I some kind of ocean witch. Nor am I a queen—I will not take the title until my throne and my people have been recovered once again.” She sighs. “If ever that happens. But the bit about the vengeance is certainly true.”  
  
“The Galra clan destroyed our people over a century ago,” the man says sadly. “Some of our people were able to flee, and protect the royal family. We have hunted the Galra clan ever since, and passed the duty down through our descendants, harrying them to try and protect other peoples from being overrun as well. My great-grandfather served the original king of Altea, and then my grandfather, and my father, and now I serve the last of the royal line.”  
  
“That would be me,” the woman says. “I am princess Allura of Altea, and I vow to one day restore the kingdom of Altea to its rightful state. My attendant is Coran.”   
  
“Hello,” the man says brightly.   
  
“That’s it?” Pidge asks, skeptical. “Two people to fight an entire horde?”  
  
Allura sighs. “There were more of us, once,” she admits. “Once, this ship was full of Altean people, and we had many more, commanded by my father, Alfor, king-destined of Altea. We harried the Galra as we could. Fought them with what strength we possessed.  
  
“But they are strong. Too strong, and too bloodthirsty. Over the years they have whittled down our numbers and our ships. In our last battle we lost the last of our crew, and the _Lioness_ was badly damaged.” She steps over to the closest railing, and runs her hands sadly over the wood grains, tracing one of the deep cracks in its surface. Red growls a little, but Keith places a hand on her neck soothingly, and she settles again.   
  
“We managed to limp our way to the Altar of Storms for supplication,” Allura finishes tiredly. “But the great unifier has not answered, and I fear we may not have much longer.”   
  
“Altar of Storms?” Shiro asks, standing up straighter. “Do you know what that is? We’ve come on a mission to find it, to try and protect our own people from this Galra tribe.”  
  
“And what’s a great unifier?” Lance adds, looking confused.   
  
Allura hesitates a moment, looking around at them all. She glances last at Coran last, who shrugs. “We have a common enemy, from the sounds of it, princess,” he says. “And they are trying to protect their home from the Galra, a duty our people have tried to uphold for a hundred years at least. And most importantly, they’ve bonded with dragons. If anything will please the unifier, it will be that.”   
  
Allura seems to consider this for a very long moment. Then she finally looks around at them all and says, “Very well then. Coran has a point. If you would let me…I believe I have something to show you.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Allura takes them to the very top of the plateau on the island.   
  
There is a path to the top, she says, but they take the two dragons for faster travel, after leaving most of their gear on the deck of the massive ship. Keith has a hard time convincing Red to take Allura as a passenger, and Skyscale seems none too fond of Coran at first, but the dragons eventually settle and allow it.  
  
At the top is the Altar of Storms, and Shiro has never seen anything else like it before.  
  
There’s a wide, circular stone carving set into the stone of the plateau. It’s wider than Red is from nose to tail-tip, and big enough for all of them to stand in comfortably without taking up all the space. It’s surrounded by four braziers, currently unlit, set at each of the cardinal directions. And Shiro can see where the Altar gets its name—they’re so close to the clouds up on this plateau he feels like he could reach out and touch them. This may be the closest any of them can get to the stars and storms and gods without being on dragon-back, and the view is incredible.  
  
Between each of the braziers is a statue of a dragon, and the same dragon is carved into the stone disc in the ground. And that’s when Shiro gets his second surprise, because this dragon is like nothing he’s ever seen. It’s slim and sleek, with a diamond shaped head and two sets of wings. The statues stand upright, with their front paws held loosely in front of them. In the carving, the dragon curls in in a spiral, with its tail twisting inward to display a pair of delicate looking fins. The carving’s eyes bore into Shiro’s as they approach, and he knows it’s only stone, but he swears the creature is watching him.   
  
“Is that a Nightfury?” Matt asks, sounding awed.  
  
“It can’t be a Nightfury,” Pidge argues, although she, too, looks awed at the sight of the Altar. “No one’s ever seen one before. I thought they’d all died out years ago.”   
  
“That may yet be true,” Allura says with a sigh. “This is the great unifier, the guardian of the skies. My people have bonded with many kinds of dragons in the past, before our civilization was destroyed. In those days, the great unifier—what you call a ‘Nightfury’—was amongst the noblest of dragons. They often kept to themselves, but would make themselves known in times of strife, especially to peoples who had already demonstrated a willingness to work together with dragons.”  
  
“In old legends, it was said that they were alpha dragons, kings and queens of their people,” Coran says softly. “They always worked to preserve their own, and work willingly with humans to do the same, and protect human and dragon alike. They would be selective about the humans they chose to associate with, though. To bond with the unifier was said to be an indication of great leadership and trustworthiness. The greatest rulers, knights and generals of Altea were said to have a guardians of the skies as friends and comrades.”   
  
_No wonder the Galra want to find this place so bad,_ Shiro realizes. _Getting one of these dragons would be like getting a sign from the gods themselves that their conquest is ordained. And if they’re that powerful, they could easily turn the tide of any battle. They’d have to force it to work for them, or kill it before it fought against them._  
  
“They are said to bring strength, but also peace,” Allura finishes with a sigh. “I had hoped that coming to beg for aid at the Altar would be enough to call one. This is a time of great strife, certainly, and a time where unification and strength are needed to push back the horde. Especially when the Altean fleet has been decimated. If the great unifier would return, perhaps it would be a sign that the war would turn in our favor once more…that we could prevent the spreading darkness before it envelops all of the ocean.” She shakes her head. “But no guardian has answered the call, no matter how much I light the braziers and plead for their assistance.”  
  
“Maybe there aren’t any left,” Keith says, after a long moment of silence. “The Galra…I’ve watched some of their movements, when I was looking for Shiro. They’re not kind to the humans they come across, but they slaughter dragons just as much as people.”   
  
Shiro stares at the carving in the great stone disc, and imagines the creature in it lost forever. He wonders if that would truly be a sign of hope being lost, as well.   
  
Allura’s eyes narrow in anger. “I do not doubt it,” she says, looking furious. “The Galra have no respect for any living creature or free people. Nor have they done anything for the reputation of dragons. Over a century ago humans and dragons lived in harmony; they were not considered the monstrous brutes they are today. The Galra have spread vile lies and changed histories to suit them. Human and dragon alike have forgotten their roots, and war amongst each other, and the Galra take advantage of the chaos they have sown to conquer.”  
  
“I fear that may be the problem,” Coran admits. “If the unifier yet lives—if any of that race of dragons is left—it may not want to approach humans when there is such strife between human and dragon. In the old stories, they only ever appeared where there was already unity, to help guide worthy leaders and knights to victory. But there is no respect between human and dragon anymore. The Galra kill and trap dragons relentlessly, and force them to fight for sport. The creatures fight back to defend themselves, and distrust all humans. Humans in turn defend themselves against the creatures that attack them. And the cycle continues forever.”   
  
“Perhaps they do not find humankind worthy of saving anymore,” Allura agrees, sounding bitter. “And I cannot say I would blame them, if that were the case. The Galra have slaughtered thousands of their brothers and sisters. The unifier must truly be disgusted to look upon us; the unity it brings exists no longer. Why should it return?”   
  
Shiro swallows quietly at that. He knows firsthand the cruelty of the Galra, and the frenzy of battle as they pit man against dragon. Shiro had fought in their arenas against other humans, but he had also been pitted against dragons in awful fights to the death. The creatures had been starved, vicious, and desperate, just like him. But at the time, he hadn’t seen very far past being attacked by a fire breathing monster, and needing to defend himself at any cost. He’d killed dozens, or risked being killed himself. One of those creatures had taken his arm in a fight that had not gone well for him, and he had resented the beast.   
  
Now, after interacting with Keith’s and Lance’s dragons, he’s begun to regret his actions. The dragons had been prisoners just as much as him, and they had acted out of fear and pain, not out of malice. They hadn’t deserved death, much less at his hands.  
  
But he’d done what he’d done, and there was no changing it now. He couldn’t break the cycle then, but maybe they can start to now.  
  
“What if we can prove it _does_ still exist?” Shiro asks slowly.   
  
Everyone turns to stare at him, even the dragons. Shiro ignores them for the moment, instead staring into the eyes of the creature on the stone disc. It feels like it’s judging him, and after a moment he looks away, unable to meet even those stone eyes fully.   
  
“Prove that the unity between human and dragon exists?” Hunk asks, confused. “But it kinda…doesn’t, right?”  
  
“Not widely,” Shiro says. “Not a whole kingdom’s worth of people bonding with dragons, no. But it’s possible for it to happen again. Just look at Keith and Red, or Lance and Skyscale.” He gestures to the two dragons and their riders. Red snorts a trail of steam, and Skyscale preens, turning her head to stare at him with one great eye.  
  
“None of us thought this was possible,” Shiro continues, “But here we are now. We know now that dragons aren’t bloodthirsty, rabid animals. We know humans can work with them. And we can spread that knowledge. Protect humans, protect dragons, by working as a team to do so. Pick at the Galra—small targets, easy strikes, in and out. Do whatever we can to push back the horde, and prove we’re better than anything the Galra have tried to make us. Even if the rest of us don’t have dragons, we can still do what we can to fight.”  
  
“And you think that’ll summon this…great unifier? This Nightfury?” Lance asks, skeptical.   
  
“I don’t know,” Shiro admits. “It sounds like that’s up to the dragon. But it will let us do whatever we can to protect our homes and save our people. That’s enough of a place for me to start from.”   
  
“Well spoken,” Allura says. She stands up taller, looking revitalized, every inch a princess. “Now is not the time to lose hope. And we must not lose sight of the goal. If the unifier comes, then we will welcome its presence. But we cannot forget the true goal is the defeat of the Galra, not to summon the dragon, however noble.” She nods to Shiro. “If you will have us, Coran and I will join you in your fight to protect your home, for both human and dragon alike.”  
  
Keith nods in agreement. “Me and Red are still in,” he says, stroking her neck. Red roars in agreement.  
  
“They’re not gonna outdo us, are they, Beautiful?” Lance says, scratching his dragon under the chin. She purrs in pleasure. “We’re in, too. We’ve got to protect both our families anyway.”  
  
“I don’t have a dragon, but I’m still in,” Pidge says. “Letting this go on…it’s not right.”  
  
“And we’ve still got to find dad,” Matt adds. “I’m in too. Not sure what I can do to help, but I’ll help where I can.”  
  
“This is insane,” Hunk says with a sigh. “But I guess we already agreed to it. I’m still in. Do you guys have a good forge here? I can’t help with dragon unity or anything, but I might be able to make us some useful stuff if I’ve got the right equipment…”   
  
Shiro looks around at them all, and feels a surge of pride. It’s a ragtag team of individuals they’ve somehow gathered—a group of viking teens, an alienated princess and her attendant from a dead kingdom, two dragons, and himself—but each one looks committed and ready. At some point they became a crew, and he’s not sure when exactly it happened. But he can already see those bonds solidifying between them all, and knows that this group can truly do great things, if they put their mind to it.  
  
“Alright then,” he says. “Sounds like we’ve got an alliance to defeat the Galra.”  
  
“Sworn on the Altar of Storms itself,” Allura agrees, turning to look at one of the great stone heads of the night fury statues. “No unity could be stronger.” The others look fiercely determined as they look up at the stone heads that tower over them.  
  
“Now all we need are some plans, and some targets,” Shiro says.  
  
“I might be able to assist with that,” Coran says with a sly smile.


	4. Flint and Tinder

Life as a part of the dragon alliance quickly becomes busy, as they start readying for the long fight ahead. But Matt finds he rather enjoys staying busy—it gives him less time to think about the dangers in their very near future.  
  
The Galra don’t know about this island, or the Altar of Storms, Allura assures them. “This island was a sacred place to Alteans, when my people still lived,” she tells them. “The location was closely guarded, and only the Altean royal line and those trusted were permitted to know of it, to protect the noble line of dragons that came to the Altar.”   
  
That means Arus Island is the perfect place for a base of operations, as they figure out their plans and how to really take this fight to the Galra. What’s more, there’s already a strong security system in place to keep watch for them while they prepare—because as it turns out, Allura is somewhat adept with dragons herself.   
  
She isn’t a rider, but she’s quite gifted with the flock of Terrible Terrors that roost on the island. The little chicken-sized dragons are quick, agile, and numerous, and Allura is skilled at communicating with them, meaning she has eyes all over the island. At any given moment there’s usually one or two of the creatures sitting on her shoulders or crawling up her cloak, or fluttering and diving around her head. She later admits that during their first encounter she’d actually locked several of them in her cabin on the _Lioness_ , to protect them from potential dragon slavers. Over time, Matt learns to recognize four individuals in particular that seem to be Allura’s main correspondents with the rest of the flock; they’re notable due to their particularly bright scale colors of red, blue, yellow and green compared to some of the less vibrant Terrors.   
  
It means they don’t have to keep their eye on the horizon just yet, which means they can get down to the real business of preparing to take down the Galra. And everyone is needed for that, no matter their skills.   
  
Keith and Lance are recruited into rigorous combat training exercises with their dragons, overseen by Coran and Allura. The Alteans have books and scrolls full of old dragon-knight techniques and from the days when their people lived in harmony with the dragons, and the Alteans are ruthless taskmasters that take combat very seriously. Neither have ever flown a dragon or witnessed most of the techniques described in the records; the last dragon-knight supposedly died nearly a century ago in the destruction of Altea. But they have passed down the lore and stories for generations, and do whatever they can to coach Keith and Lance through the techniques…often with rather extreme enthusiasm.   
  
Shiro often attends the training sessions as well, which Matt personally thinks is in the best interest of everyone, really. Shiro has a way of tempering Allura and Coran when they get too enthusiastic, and he’s also good at getting Keith and Lance to focus when training inevitably turns into a competition that gets out of hand. And besides, Shiro may not have a dragon of his own, but he’s always been gifted with combat and tactics, and absorbs the techniques from a theoretical standpoint very well. He works hard with Coran and Allura to learn the fine art of dragon warfare, and to work out strategies they can use to both advance the cause and protect both man and beast in the fight.   
  
And while they’re all working on combat, the rest of them attend to other things. Katie spends a lot of their time helping Coran to assess the damage of the _Lioness_ and start fixing it up. “It might be safe on this island _now,_ ” Katie tells her brother, “but it won’t _always_ be, and we should make sure this ship is seaworthy before we actually need it.” The _Lioness_ is a European monstrosity, but also an incredible ship built with both human and dragon occupants in mind. It has stables for dragons, sleeping quarters for a massive crew, and lots of storage space for supplies on long voyages, not to mention incredibly weaponry. Katie is so excited by it she nearly talks _Matt’s_ ear off, and he’s used to listening to her enthusiastic rambling.   
  
Hunk helps with the ship’s repair as well, but he also attends to other tasks. The Alteans have blacksmithing equipment, and Hunk recruits the help of Lance and Skyscale for the day to build a decent forge. Once completed, he’s able to start repairing their weaponry, make them armor, and even fiddle with inventions in his spare time. He creates a comfortable saddle for Skyscale and a better one for Red, and special harnesses to let them carry supplies more easily. With Katie’s help, he also upgrades the cap on Shiro’s missing arm to accommodate more than just a classic hook, which allows them to create a number of different interchangeable weapons or tools he can use to make his life just a little bit easier. It’s no hand, but Shiro seems to appreciate the gift all the same.   
  
And of course, all of them train in ground combat. “It’s all well and good to have dragons,” Shiro tells them firmly, “but we need to make sure we can be effective even without them, or in case we need to protect them instead.”   
  
And Matt? Well, Matt doesn’t kid himself. He’s never really been what anyone would call ‘combat savvy.’ Despite living amongst vikings, he’s always been more of a scholar at heart. Even his little sister can thrash him in an even tussle, and if Shiro hadn’t taken his place in the Galra combat arena, he’d be dragon dinner for sure.   
  
So he’s not fooling himself into thinking he’ll be any sort of help in the actual fights themselves. But while Matt isn’t a fighting sort of viking, he _is_ as stubborn as any of the rest of his tribe, and he’s not about to be the only one not pulling his weight. And the one thing he’s really got going in his favor is brains.   
  
So while the others train and prep for war, Matt studies the Book of Dragons.  
  
The scrolls and books in the _Lioness’_ ancient archive contain more than just dragon-knight knowledge. They contain knowledge about dragons themselves—and Matt dedicates himself to learning everything he can about them. If dragons are to be their allies, then they need to know them well enough to reach out to them and make contact. And he learns enough to be of some use, at least. He learns to identify what it means when Red’s flames are weaker and she can’t set her whole body on fire, and talks Keith through how to treat her and let her rest. He learns what herbs to use when Skyscale gets gashed in one wing, and how to sew the injury shut and prevent infection.   
  
And he can be sneaky, much like his sister. They’re both small and stealthy, and can find their way into places they probably shouldn’t be in. They’ve startled the Terror-guards more than once when practicing, and Matt figures maybe it’s a skill that will come in handy one day.   
  
So he pulls his weight, but he’s content to play a support role, too. He won’t be known for taking down dozens of Galra clansmen or capturing warships, but if he can patch up his friends and make sure everyone lives another day, he’s satisfied with that.  
  
And eventually, their practice starts to pay off—and they start the real fight.   
  
They take it slow, at first. Their first strike is a lone supply ship. They hit it hard and fast—Red blasts the rudder clear, Skyscale shreds the sails, and both dragons air-drop the remaining members of the dragon alliance onto the decks. The crew is over-taken fairly quickly, and Matt, Katie and Hunk secure the stolen foodstuffs in barrels that are strapped to the dragons while Shiro and Allura secure the Galra. The food is returned to the village it was stolen from, to the shock and stunned stares of the villagers, who can’t seem to believe the dragons are _bringing_ food rather than _taking_ it. And then the alliance disappears almost as fast as it arrived.   
  
After that, their confidence grows, and they start getting better coordinating as a team. Coran is usually left behind on the _Lioness_ to maintain everything, and sometimes Allura remains with him, but the others almost always are together on major missions. They attack small groups of Galra ships, drive Galra clansmen out of occupied villages, break open the combat arenas and free dragons and slaves alike. When they aren’t fighting, they’re still doing whatever good they can—redistributing food to needy civilians, helping rebuild with the strength of their dragons, relocating wild dragons to safer areas outside of Galra control. Keith, Lance, and their dragons become exceptional at harrying Galra enemies and ducking and dodging arrows and catapult stones, and for all their bickering they support each other well in the air. And the ground team does whatever they can to support the dragons by taking out ranged fighters and freeing innocent civilians or dragons, so they’ll be out of harm’s way for the big strikes.   
  
Or, for doing things the dragons, with all their strength and power, can’t—like stealth missions.  
  
Stealth is _really_ where Matt and Katie shine as a team. Matt isn’t sure if it’s a sibling thing, or just something they’re both really good at, but they’re excellent at staying unseen and covering for each other while one is busy with any particular task. And these days, this skill is called on more often.   
  
Shiro’s noticed that as their attacks get bolder, the Galra get cleverer, and they need to start staying one step ahead of their enemy. They’ve started flying into traps and going for targets that end up being useless tactically, and they need to figure out what’s going on inside the Galra’s command. That means stealing plans and intercepting messages.   
  
And that’s where Matt and Katie come in. Both are good at getting into locked command rooms on decks and into bunkers and bases on islands. Matt has a knack for guessing where the most important things are stored or hidden, and his brilliant little sister has already figured out the Galra’s coded messages. Between them they can usually find secret plans and communications, figure them out, and replace them without the enemy ever being the wiser—all the better for an ambush at a later date, once Shiro is armed with the proper knowledge for a skilled assault.   
  
This mission is no exception. Keith and Red wreak havoc on a number of other Galra ships, setting things alight with deliberate show to draw attention away from the real point of the attack. In the moment of distraction, Lance and Skyscale swoop low over the real target ship, and quietly air-drop Katie and Matt onto the deck, before soaring off to harry the other half of the collection of ships. Shiro and Hunk are already playing distraction on the deck, and with absolutely nobody focused on them, it’s child’s play for Katie and Matt to slip below deck and start the search.  
  
According to the rumors they’ve picked up, this ship is _supposed_ to be carrying important cargo, and is under the command of a skilled warrior delivering something of interest to the major leaders of the Galra clan farther inside their territory. They’d been under the impression that it was weapons, but the fact that it was heading deep into Galra occupied waters was a potential sign that it was also carrying important information.   
  
That was why they’d targeted it, but when Matt and Katie split up below deck to search for useful information, they don’t find much of anything in the way of plans.  
  
What Matt finds instead are dragons.  
  
Most of them are crammed into tiny steel cages, too small to let them properly stretch their wings or stand. They look miserable, and too sickly and weak to even produce a flame. Matt tuts in sympathy as he stares at the dragons in the gloom. Live dragons are generally only delivered for one of two things in the Galra empire: slave labor, or fodder for the gladiator arenas. Either way, they don’t have a very good life ahead of them if they stay in those cages.  
  
Matt intends to fix that, though.  
  
“Hey, sis!” he hisses over his shoulder. “C’mere. I don’t think we’re finding plans, but I think I found something else.”   
  
Katie obligingly quits digging through cabinets and searching for hidden floorboards in one of the nearby cabins, and slips stealthily down the hall to the doorway. Her eyes widen at the sight of the dragons in their cages, and she scowls. “Every time I think I can’t hate these guys enough…”  
  
“Let’s ruin their day a little,” Matt says brightly.  
  
Katie grins. “Sounds like a plan.”  
  
Katie is a far better lockpick than Matt, so she busies herself getting the cages open while Matt keeps an eye out for enemies with one eye and sets torches in brackets to provide better light. The dragons crash their way out of their cages as soon as Katie releases them, and vanish out the door and up on deck as soon as they can. But they don’t attack, and Matt is careful to stay out of their way. The poor things are just scared, after all, and Matt can’t blame any of them.  
  
He’d been in the same situation himself.  
  
When he reaches the last cage in the line, he lets out a soft hiss of sympathy. Most of the dragons they’ve freed have been local to the region, but this—he recognizes it from the Book of Dragons by its two heads and exotic scale pattern. It’s a Hideous Zippleback, but he rarely sees them in this area. They’re a little more common back home, but even then, only marginally.   
  
The Zippleback has been treated terribly, even by the standards he’s already seen. It’s heavily bound in chains, with front and back legs tied together awkwardly, and both of its heads are lashed together as well. Its short, stubby wings are pinned to its sides with cords, and leather straps around both jaws hold its mouths tightly shut to keep it from sparking or spewing gas. Its chest heaves with difficulty breathing, and it looks exhausted and terrified.   
  
Matt is disgusted, but not really surprised. Zippleback hides are worth a small fortune in the northern markets for their supple scales and exotic patterns. They were probably keeping this one bound as still as possible so it can’t damage its coat before they can deliver it to a buyer and skin it.   
  
No shred of decency. Human or dragon, it didn’t matter—the Galra treated all of them like cattle.   
  
“Hey there, guys,” Matt says slowly, speaking as gently as he can to the dragon. A quick glance at the—wow, triple-locked cage, somebody doesn’t want their investment getting away—tells him he’s not breaking through without his sister’s help, but he can at least try to calm the poor thing in the meantime. He reaches a hand through the bars carefully, but stops when one of the heads does its best to snarl at him, eyes wide and rolling. He pulls his hand back a little. “Okay. Your call. I won’t touch unless you’re okay with it.”   
  
The dragon quiets after a moment, and both heads watch him.   
  
“Gonna need your help with this one, sis,” he calls over his shoulder, although he still keeps his voice level. “Getting in alone is going to be tricky.”   
  
“Please,” Katie says as she appears next to him. “I’ve never met a lock I can’t break. Oh, geez—what’d they do to this poor guy? Or…guys?”  
  
“Zippleback hides are worth your weight in gold if they’re good quality,” Matt says, with an edge of disgust in his voice. “The rest of the dragon doesn’t have to be.”  
  
Katie looks furious. “Well, they’re not getting this one,” she growls, as she attacks the locks with vehemence.   
  
The dragon watches them cautiously with both heads, eyes still rolling and wide with unease. Each head eventually settles for watching one human apiece, as best as it can with its necks bound together.   
  
Matt adjusts a few of the torches so his sister has better lighting, and gets a better view of the dragon in question. It’s hard to tell under all the bindings, but he thinks this Zippleback is primarily a dark green, with an intricate markings pattern in reds, silvers and whites all along its back and neck. He also notices a few gashes on the creature’s front legs, and some torn scales along its sides, where it had obviously tried to fight before it was bound.   
  
“They weren’t very nice to you, were they, guys?” Matt says sadly. The dragon lets out a low rumble in its chest that somehow emits from both heads, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah. Me neither.”  
  
The closer head eyes Matt warily, and lets out a soft huff through its large nostrils.   
  
There’s a satisfactory _clank_ as the first of the locks comes free. The dragon heads both start in alarm at the noise, and Katie hastily stifles her quiet hiss of victory. “Woah, easy there guys. It’s okay. You’re fine. Just the locks.”   
  
Her tone emulates Matt’s even one, and the dragons settle again, staring uneasily.   
  
Neither head seems to know what to make of the siblings, Matt notices. They both seem afraid and very tired, and when Matt tries to reach through the bars twice more to stroke one’s scales or try to remove the leather straps, the heads growl warningly. But Matt continues to talk low and soothing to them, and Katie does the same every time she breaks through another lock, and by the end they aren’t quite as aggressive as they were at the start. The third lock’s clank as it releases doesn’t even startle them, and they only try to flutter their pinned wings a little when Katie wrenches the door open.  
  
Stepping inside the cell with the dragon is trickier. Both heads try to curl inward defensively towards the main body, but they can’t really move all that well with the way they’re bound. They hiss uneasily, and their claws scrape at the wooden planking of the ship ineffectually.   
  
“Easy there,” Matt says, moving low and slow, just like he does when sneaking. Katie does the same. “We’re just gonna help get that off of you, okay?”  
  
“You get the ropes, I’ll take care of the chains,” Katie says.   
  
Matt nods in agreement as Katie tackles the first of the locks around the Zippleback’s claws. The creature hisses in alarm, but goes still a moment later when it seems to finally realize they’re trying to help. Matt helps as well, slicing through the binding cords around its wings to let it stretch them and help it breathe easier, and then he starts sawing at the ropes around the creatures’ necks. The Zippleback stops growling, and each head rolls back its large yellow eyes to watch the siblings in wonder.  
  
Within short order they have the creature mostly free. It comes slowly to its feet, limping on its bad leg and clearly pained from being bound and cramped for so long. It’s long necks reach so high they hit the ceiling of the cell, and double back down towards them in the confined space.   
  
“This leg looks bad,” Matt says, as he reaches for the pouch on his back. He always carries medical supplies with him these days—who knows when somebody’s going to need treatment on the battlefield, the way they work. “I can create a wrap for it if you can get those things off their faces.”  
  
It takes a little work—the Zippleback is still a little skittish, and frankly Matt doesn’t blame it—but Katie manages to coax one of the heads down to her level long enough to remove the strap. It’s the head on the left—the same one that initially growled warningly at Matt when he first tried to touch it—that finally lowers its muzzle down to Katie. She obligingly works the leather strap off from around its horn and under its jaw, dexterous fingers working carefully to not cause the creature further pain. Once its mouth is free, it works its jaw and lets out a burbling little rumble in the back of its throat. Its sibling, seeing the other head freed, almost insistently shoves its own head into Katie’s hands for the same treatment.   
  
“Okay, okay!” she says with a laugh. “Calm down, I’ll help you too.”   
  
By the time she’s finished working off the second strap, the creature is much calmer, and Matt is almost done creating his dragon treatment. He has a bottle of salve created from ingredients he read about in the Book of Dragons, which he always keeps on hand in case Red or Skyscale are injured. He uses this on the large, durable bandages designed to resist the roughness of dragon scales and remain in place. He wraps the dragon’s foreleg carefully, mindful of the multiple gashes and loose scales. Both heads screech for a moment at the initial sting, and the left one sparks in irritation—but the right one, closer to Matt, growls and blocks it.   
  
Oh, sibling rivalries. Yeah, Matt knows that one well, too.   
  
“Okay. I think you guys are good to go,” he says, finally climbing to his feet and giving the creature a gentle pat on the shoulder. Its wings twitch a little at the contact, but it doesn’t attack or growl like before.   
  
“Let’s get you guys out of here,” Katie says, backing up and holding the door open wider. The Zippleback hesitates, but then surges through the door and up the hall to the decks above. It’s double-tipped tail disappears from sight, and Matt stares at the empty space a little forlornly. He’d almost been hoping…  
  
But no, that’d be a stupid thought.   
  
“I’m gonna miss them,” Katie says, sounding a little dejected herself. “They were kind of cute. And smart. Did you see how fast they figured out you weren’t hurting them with that poultice?”  
  
“Yes,” Matt admits. “And they figured out you’d remove those muzzles without hurting them pretty fast, too. But they’re wild dragons. They deserve to be free.”  
  
“I guess,” Katie says with a sigh. “We’d better get moving. We’ve already wasted a lot of time, and I don’t think this place has any troop movements or correspondence to steal…”  
  
“No,” Matt agrees. He’s already worried they’ve waited too long. Lance and Skyscale need to pick them up to get them off the ship, still, but if reinforcements have had a chance to arrive there’s no way the Nadder will be able to get to them easily.  
  
They head back down the hall, past all the now-empty steel cages, and clamber up the ladder to the main deck. Matt blinks as his eyes meet flames, and it takes him a second to realize the mast is alight. Fire must have spread at some point—definitely time to go.   
  
He turns to search for Lance and his dragon against the stars—and comes face to face with an angry Galra viking.  
  
The man strikes before Matt can even throw up his hands defensively, or reach for his knife. He gasps as the punch hits him solidly in the gut, and again when the man cuffs him in the side of the head hard enough to send him reeling. He hits the deck with a grunt and rolls, feeling prickles of pain as splinters dig into his arms and legs.   
  
_“Matt!”_ He hears Katie yell angrily. There’s a ring of steel and a scuffling noise, and a moment later he hears her snarl, “Let go—damn it— _Matt!_ Shiro, Hunk—Lance, where are you—somebody _help!_ ”   
  
Spots dance before Matt’s vision, a whole new set of stars that have nothing to do with the sky. He groans and tries to push himself up on shaky arms, but they don’t seem to be cooperating with him right. He finally manages to get his arms underneath him after several precious seconds, but that’s when he spots the boots out of the corner of his vision. He follows them up, and _up,_ and finally sees the same massive Galra standing over him—with an equally massive, wicked-looking mace in one hand.   
  
“Worthless rebels,” the man snarls in disgust, as he raises his mace. “Commander Sendak is getting tired of your interference.”  
  
Matt’s eyes widen. He knows he should be _doing_ something, but in that moment he’s frozen, unsure of how to move. He hears multiple voices screaming his name, but they all sound too far away, and this is the moment when he dies, he knows—  
  
But then he hears and _feels_ a massive _thud_ , and something lightning fast lashes out and slams into the man like a whip. He screams in surprise as he’s thrown overboard by the force of the blow, mace thudding uselessly to the deck.   
  
Matt stares at his rescuer. The Zippleback has returned, and it looks _angry._ Even as he watches, the left head reaches out to seize another Galra viking—one that has _Katie_ restrained with both arms—with its jaws, lifting him clean into the air by his head. The man shrieks and lets go of Katie as he flails at the dragon, and the right head of the Zippleback catches Katie by the back of her vest quickly. The left head flings the viking overboard while the right places Katie gently down next to Matt.   
  
“You came back,” Matt says, stunned.   
  
The right head lets out a burbling little purr. Matt is still on his hands and knees from his mad scramble, and the dragon slides its head carefully under his torso, helping him stand. The left head keeps watch, growling warningly at the enemy Galra coming closer.  
  
“You guys are incredible,” Katie says, grinning with excitement. She places a hand on the neck of the left dragon, and adds, “Thanks for saving us. Both of us.”  
  
“Yeah,” Matt agrees, as he settles back on his feet. “You really came through for us.”  
  
Both heads seem to purr, and then the dragon goes fully defensive as the vikings start to come closer. It places itself in front of both humans, and draws its heads up to look as tall as possible. Its tail lashes, and its wings are flared wide and rattling slightly in an aggressive warning display.   
  
The Galra don’t heed the warnings, and they definitely pay for it. The first two are knocked out with simultaneous head bashes. A third is tossed in the air and head-butted out of the sky, and a forth is disarmed and swept off the deck by the dragon’s double-tipped tail.   
  
But the Galra keep coming—there must have been reinforcements since Matt and Katie went belowdecks. And what’s more, they’re bringing ranged weapons. Several now have bows and crossbows, and are smart enough to keep their distance.   
  
“Look out! Arrows!” Matt warns, frantic.   
  
The Zippleback growls, and breathes deep. The right head spews a massive cloud of noxious gas into the air, obscuring them almost immediately in thick green smoke. An arrow whistles past overhead, just barely missing them.   
  
Matt and Katie immediately begin coughing on the fumes, but after a moment he hears Katie choke, “Sm-mart move.” A moment later, though, Matt can just barely see her eyes widen in horror. “Wait, no! Don’t spark!”  
  
The left dragon’s jaw works quickly, and Matt can see little sparks spitting out between its teeth, but at Katie’s shout it stops and looks down at her in confusion.   
  
Katie coughs again, and hisses, “You’ll blow us all up!”  
  
“We gotta get off the ship first,” Matt says, also coughing. This stuff is hiding them, but it tastes terrible and isn’t kind on the lungs. He blinks through teary eyes up at the sky, and spots both Red and Skyscale twirling and dodging furiously away from arrows and boulders. “Don’t th-think we’re getting a pickup, though,” he hisses to Katie. “Reinforcements—they can’t get close—“  
  
“Maybe—“ Katie hesitates for only a second, and then reaches out her hand to the left head of the Zippleback. Matt’s eyes widen as he understands her exact train of thought, and he holds out his own hand to the right.   
  
Both dragon halves look confused, for a moment. Then they exchange glances with each other, and bend their long necks to press their noses to flesh. And Matt just _knows_ , at that moment, that him and Katie and this dragon are partners.   
  
“Welcome to the team,” he says with a smile.  
  
“Now let’s go join them,” Katie adds with a grin.  
  
The Zippleback heads growl, and lower to the ground as the gas starts to dissipate. Matt and Katie hastily climb on, one person per head. The Zippleback necks are long and skinny, but surprisingly strong, and each head is able to lift a human easy. Balancing is more tricky, especially bareback on such a slim seat. But Matt remembers watching Keith ride sans saddle sometimes with Red on early morning flights, and does what he can to imitate the way Keith stays seated by holding on with his upper legs and crossing his ankles. It works, when he holds onto the short black horns the Zippleback has for balance.   
  
“Give us a little more cover?” Matt asks, nudging down carefully on the horns of his dragon’s head. The Zippleback growls, and spews more noxious green gas from its mouth, obscuring them completely once more. Several more arrows whistle overhead, getting too close for comfort, but not hitting.  
  
“That’s our cue to leave,” Katie says. The Zippleback heads both growl in agreement, and launch into the air. Matt’s head is still trailing gas, and Katie grins. “But let’s leave them something to remember us by.”  
  
She pushes down on her own dragon head’s horns, and it finally cracks its jaws together and sparks. The gas catches fire, and trails down to the thick cloud on the deck. There’s one moment of pure stillness as the flames seem to gather, and then the entire cloud bursts. The ship bursts, too, sending wood shrapnel slamming into adjacent ships and disrupting the aim of catapults and ballistae.   
  
“ _Matt! Pidge!_ Keith, Red’s better with fire—get down there and help them—“  
  
Matt’s eyes widen as he hears Shiro’s voice close by, in the air. A moment later Lance and Skyscale swoop past, with Shiro and Hunk as additional passengers behind him. They must not have noticed that the escaping dragon from the ship was carrying passengers. All of them look horrified.  
  
Keith and Red blast past next, with Red already lighting up her whole body in flames as protection for the venture onto the deck. Matt yells before either of them can dive. “Wait! Guys! We’re okay!”  
  
“Both here!” Katie adds, holding onto the Zippleback’s horns with one hand and waving with the other.   
  
Red and Skyscale turn back, coming into a practiced hover, which the Zippleback copies awkwardly. “You guys found a dragon?” Lance asks excitedly. “Oh man! Two heads? Cool!”   
  
The snap of a ballistae interrupts the conversation, and all dragons dart awkwardly out of the way to avoid the blast. “Head back,” Shiro orders, from Skyscale’s back. “We’ve done what we can here. This isn’t the place for conversation.”   
  
Red and Skyscale swoop away, and the Zippleback follows after a careful nudge on the horns from Matt and Katie each. Neither Matt or Katie have much experience flying, and the dragon has clearly never carried passengers before, but both are learning fairly quickly how to work with each other. The Zippleback responds well to direction from its horns, and they trust the dragon to handle the business of flight. Both heads seem a bit wary of the other dragons, but clearly trust the siblings implicitly, enough to still follow.  
  
“So, what’re you gonna name’em?” Lance asks, after they’ve made some safe distance from the decimated ships.  
  
Matt and Katie exchange glances, and then grin.  
  
After that, Flint and Tinder—and their riders, Matt and Katie—are the newest recruits to join dragon rider training. Matt enjoys it more than he realizes. Combat isn’t really his thing solo, but working with Tinder, he feels like he can contribute to battles more than ever before, and Flint works equally well with Katie. Flint and Tinder’s special flammable gas allows for some interesting new combat tactics, and can be applied in clever ways, which both Matt and Katie are exceptional at figuring out. The Zippleback is also very skilled at ambush attacks, and for being such a large dragon, it’s surprisingly skilled at stealth. And if it comes to it, Flint and Tinder are strong enough to airlift fellow humans, supplies, or even other dragons out of harm’s way, letting them act in a support function in addition to a combat one.   
  
Most importantly, with his new partner, Matt feels like he can really make a difference. Like he already _has,_ rescuing a fellow prisoner from a short life of pain and suffering. It serves as a reminder that he can _keep_ making a difference with his own unique skillset, and one day he _can_ , and _will_ , find and rescue his father again. Him and Katie, and their dragon, all as a team.  
  
He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you probably know why I included Matt in this particular story, haha.


	5. Ironheart

With the new addition of Flint and Tinder to the dragon riders, their Galra fighting operation starts to expand. Having three dragons on their team means they have more options for team lineups and keeping each other covered, and Shiro takes full advantage of it when he sends them on missions. They can be in more places at once now, which makes it even trickier for the Galra to predict what they’re doing. And it also means they can start spreading out farther, expanding their territory, and finding new places to explore.   
  
Soon they’ll reach the limit of how their dragons can go while still returning to Arus as a home base. Allura assures them that repairs are going well on the _Lioness,_ though, and soon that won’t be an issue anymore. They’ll be able to sail into the heart of Galra waters with nothing holding them back.  
  
Personally, it’s not something Hunk is really looking _forward_ to. The Galra are scary, and totally crazy, too. But he’s seen enough destruction and devastation caused by the Galra by now, to both human and dragon alike, to know that their fight has meaning—however small their numbers. He’s not looking forward to it, but he’ll do it, because it’s the right thing to do, and because there’s a lot of people out there that need help.  
  
So he doesn’t object when Shiro sends him and Lance on a scouting mission almost at the edge of their flight path’s reach, even if it _will_ be an uncomfortable flight. The intelligence Pidge and Matt uncovered, with the help of their latest partner, suggests it’s too important a mission to skip out on. From the sounds of it, the Galra have some sort of mining operation going on a very far island, and are using the place to get raw ore for quality weapons to arm their ships. Lance and Skyscale are speedy enough to get there quickly, and Skyscale’s coloration lets her scout during daylight with less of a chance of being seen. And Hunk, as their resident blacksmith and all-around repair guy, can analyze the quality of the ore there and see if it’s something they can use to arm themselves or surrounding villages for better protection.   
  
The trip is awful, but that’s nothing new. It doesn’t matter how often Hunk flies on dragonback, it still makes him sick to his stomach with the constant flapping up and down and rolls and dives and loops. He’s thrown up so often over the sides of the dragons that the creatures have actually learned how to anticipate it and twist enough to protect their scales. Fortunately, while Lance and Skyscale will often try to mess with Hunk for fun during shorter flights, they’re all business today, knowing there’s a lot of distance to cover in a very short amount of time.   
  
They reach the island in question at mid-day. Lance pulls Skyscale to a halt at a safe distance with a now practiced tug at his saddle, and she hovers in midair, flapping hard to stay in place. Hunk groans, but his stomach is relatively calm, for the moment. He hangs onto one of Lance’s shoulders for balance, and stares at the island in the distance through the little looking glass he and Pidge managed to create together with a little trial and error.  
  
“I’m seeing a lot of activity around the docks,” Lance reports, squinting. He’s got the sharpest eyesight on the team, which is one of the reasons he’d ended up choosing a bow as his preferred weapon, rather than the standard sword, mace or axe.   
  
“Same here,” Hunk reports. “It looks like they’re loading something in crates, but I can’t tell what.”  
  
“Raw ore, probably,” Lance says, sounding bored. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”  
  
“Maybe, but…” Hunk looks at the air over the island curiously. “See all that smoke? And there’s some weird huts and things farther back. Is that a forge? Are they making stuff _on_ the island? I thought they were just delivering raw ore somewhere else after they mined it.”  
  
“Can’t tell from here. And we can’t see the mining operation.” Lance grins a little. “I think we’ve gotta go further in. Time to do some spying.”  
  
“What? No, no no no,” Hunk says, alarmed. “We came and scouted and confirmed the report is real. There’s really Galra here—a lot of them. We should report back to Shiro, and wait for the entire team to come out and attack.”   
  
“Quit worrying, Hunk,” Lance grouses. “What’re we gonna do, go back and say ‘yeah, we looked at them from a distance’? Shiro’s gonna want actual answers to actual questions, and we can’t do that from here. Besides, Skyscale’s been flying all day. She’s gotta rest, at least a little.” He pats the dragon gently on the back of her neck, just behind her spiny crest. The dragon squawks tiredly.   
  
Hunk’s not happy, but he does have to admit Lance has a point on that last one. Skyscale has more endurance than a lot of wild Nadders at this point, after all the rigorous dragon training Allura and Coran have put them through, but she’s still a living creature and she needs a break. “Okay. Fine. But be _careful_. We’re only two people and one dragon, we can’t take on all of _that_.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Lance guides Skyscale deftly with his knees and a few trained hand tapping signals, and Skyscale turns in the air and begins to circle wide of the quarry island.   
  
They’re in luck, and find an unguarded area on the opposite side of the island, away from enemy eyes. Skyscale skims in low over the water, and then swoops up at the last moment onto one of the great stone bluffs on the rocky island, in an agile maneuver that makes Hunk’s stomach drop with an alarming lurch. He slaps a hand over his mouth and slides gratefully off of the dragon when she finally thuds onto the stone.   
  
“Great job, Beautiful,” Lance says, scratching his dragon under the jaw. She purrs with delight, and he dotes on her for another minute or so before giving her some water from his flask. “Okay. Now you take a break, and stay here. Hunk and I are gonna do some sneaking, but that might be a little tricky for you.”  
  
Skyscale squawks in what Hunk is sure is indignation.  
  
“Hey! It’s not your fault you’re so gorgeous you catch everyone’s eye,” Lance croons, rubbing her scales just below her spiny crest again. This seems to mollify his dragon, who lets out a huff, but wearily settles down on the stone for a rest. “Great. Stay out of trouble, and we’ll be right back.”  
  
“Back from where, exactly?” Hunk asks, giving Lance a suspicious look “We’re supposed to just be letting Skyscale rest!”  
  
“We may as well do some scouting while we’re here, right?” Lance says brightly. “Look, we can at least get a good lay of the land from there.” He points upward, at a high point on the bluffs. Hunk sighs, but Lance does have a point, so they scramble up the low incline and lay flat on the stone to peer down at the island below.  
  
It’s fairly big, and covered in rocky outcroppings and bluffs. There’s a deep canyon that looks man-made more than natural, probably the results of whatever mining operation is going on here. Almost the entire place is the same brownish-gray color, and there’s almost no sign of any vegetation. What few trees do exist are twisted and stunted, gnarled roots fighting hard to dig into the stone for nourishment. The whole thing looks sort of barren and depressing. And the dozens of Galra clansmen on the ground far, far below, along with the six ships at the water’s edge at a makeshift dock, make it even worse.   
  
“They’ve been busy,” Lance mutters, low enough for only Hunk to hear.   
  
“No kidding,” Hunk murmurs back. “Look at he size of that indentation—this has been going on for months. I’m not sure how much material is even going to be left here at this rate. They’re stripping the place barren.”   
  
Lance grumbles, and then points at the steady stream of workers. “They’re not even taking that stuff to the ships. It’s going towards all the smoke over there that you noticed earlier.”  
  
“Definitely processing it first,” Hunk murmurs. “Then delivering whatever they make. But what is it? Those crates are huge. Something tells me it’s not just weapons.”  
  
“Only one way to find out,” Lance says. He slides back carefully from the edge, and then turns and walks at a crouch, searching for a path down the bluff.  
  
“Lance, what are you—no, wait, we’ll—argh!” Hunk gives Skyscale an exasperated look as he scrambles down off the ridge as well, and runs past her after Lance. “Your partner is going to get us all killed.”  
  
Skyscale’s only answer is a quiet _whumpf_ through her nose. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered.   
  
“Figures you’d agree with him,” Hunk mutters under his breath.  
  
Lance does find a way down to the smoke without them being seen, fortunately. Sneaking is a lot easier when one doesn’t have a fifteen-foot dragon in tow. They manage to find a hidden space in a nearby outcropping to spy on the activity below, and Hunk’s eyes widen at the sight. There’s a whole blacksmith’s forge set up here, bigger than even the one back home, and the setup is sophisticated and incredible. The smiths are hard at work on something, but from what Hunk can see, it’s not swords or axes, or even shields. Two of them are working on a massive spoked wheel, worked out of pure metal, and a third is working on a long metal staff of some sort. Or maybe a lever? Hunk can’t tell from here very well.   
  
There’s a storage shed set up near the forge, and one of the smiths carries a finished piece inside of it. Hunk knows whatever it is they’re working on is being stored in there, maybe to protect it from the elements until it’s completed. But he can’t tell what it is from here, and they’re at the wrong angle to see inside the door.  
  
“Any idea what they’re doing?” Lance asks.  
  
“No clue,” Hunk admits. “Need to get closer to see.” His curiosity is piqued despite himself.  
  
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Lance mutters. “Way too many guys. Okay, we’ll come back to this if we get a chance. Let’s check out the mines, see if there’s anything useful there.”  
  
They have to backtrack a bit so as not to get caught, but Lance and Hunk are able to carefully pick their way across the stone bluffs and around to a better point to descend towards the mines unseen. These are guarded well, and for a moment Hunk is sure they’re not going to get any farther than that without announcing their presence.   
  
But then another one of the Galra soldiers comes running up to the guards, panting. “Damn beasts are at it again,” he curses, gesturing over his shoulder.  
  
The guards both scowl, and run off after their fellow, drawing weapons. Lance and Hunk exchange looks.    
“That sounds promising,” Lance comments.   
  
“No kidding,” Hunk agrees. They both scramble to follow, keeping their distance and getting the higher ground, staying hidden. If there’s some kind of break in the Galra system here, Shiro will definitely want to know about it so they can exploit it.  
  
The crack in the system turns out to be dragons—specifically, Gronckles. There’s a small group of the creatures clustered back against one edge of the mining canyon, hemmed in by the three guards they’d followed, plus two more. But there’s something wrong with these Gronckles—they’ve rescued plenty of the dragons in the past, and Hunk’s never seen any look so scrawny. These ones look thinner than they should, sickly and weak, and their normally thick, hard skin sags in unhealthy-looking wrinkles.   
  
They also look scared, Hunk notes, with a twist of sympathy. As the Galra advance, the dragons back up, cowering and watching the advancing vikings fearfully.   
  
“Useless things,” one of the guards mutter. “Destroying the damn stock again.”   
  
“Oh,” Hunk realizes, eyes widening. “Gronckles eat stone.” He remembers that from when Matt teasingly told him about dragons with even worse palette than Tinder, after the Zippleback rejected some of Hunk’s fish stew. “These guys must have originally lived on this island…but with the Galra mining the whole place, their food source is getting destroyed. They’re starving and just trying to find something to eat…”  
  
Lance scowls besides him. “Leave it to the Galra. Look, there’s even more back there.” He points, carefully so he isn’t seen, at a cave-like crack at the back end of the canyon. Even more Gronckles cower inside, looking worse for wear than the ones cornered outside. “There’s loads of them. A whole population that the Galra’s hurting just by being here.”  
  
Hunk’s eyes narrow at that, and he really feels for these poor dragons. But there’s not much he and Lance can do on their own, without even Skyscale here for backup, much less the rest of the team. Maybe if they can get word back to the _Lioness_ quickly, they can get the rest of the team to prioritize saving these dragons and getting them somewhere safe. If the creatures can hold out just a few days longer, maybe the alliance can fix things.  
  
“Get rid of them.” This order comes from another guard approaching, with two more men on either side. “This is getting ridiculous. They keep slowing production, and we can’t have that.”  
  
“Orders were to catch them. For the arenas, or for forge labor,” one of the other guards protests.  
  
“Then kill _most_ of them, and take a few of the stronger ones,” the first guard—clearly a superior in the group—says in exasperation. “Most of those weaker ones won’t be any use any— _ARGH!_ ”  
  
He screams in surprise as something heavy and huge smashes down on top of him, and goes silent. For a moment, Hunk thinks a massive boulder had been dropped on the man by one of their own catapults—but then the boulder moves, and Hunk gets a better view of it.  
  
It’s a Gronckle, but it’s _enormous_ , twice the size of any of the others there. Hunk’s never seen one that huge in all the weeks they’ve been working with the Alteans to save their homeland; he swears it must have some Quaken blood in it. It’s a surprisingly beautiful sandy-gold color, with deeper reddish-sandstone markings around its shoulders. Unlike most of its brethren, it doesn’t look sickly and weak, and its skin doesn’t sag from starvation. This Gronckle’s limbs ripple with muscle, and it looks coordinated and strong.  
  
Also unlike it’s brethren, it looks _furious_. Gronckles are generally mild and peaceful, not prone to aggressive tendencies like some other species of dragons unless forced into a corner. But this one bears its teeth and lets out a high-pitched snarl, scratching one of its short, stubby legs in the stone. Before the guards can react it charges, lowering its head and ramming into the nearest Galra. The man goes flying and cracks into the rock, sliding bonelessly to the ground with a groan. The Gronckle keeps charging, spinning at the last moment to smash its stubby tail into the next guard. The man screams as his leg snaps alarmingly, and he stumbles away, out of the fight.  
  
The Gronckle finally slides to a stop on the stone, planting itself stubbornly in between the pack of frightened-looking Gronckles and the Galra. It flares its stubby wings warningly and snarls again, and looks firmly rooted to the earth, immobile.   
  
Hunk’s eyes widen at the display. This Gronckle isn’t being aggressive for no reason…it’s _shielding_ its friends, putting itself firmly between them and danger. He finds himself rooting for the big guy. He can relate, wanting to protect those important to him.   
  
And for a minute or two he thinks the Gronckle might do well. It’s already brought down three of the eight guys; it might have a shot. But now it’s lost the element of surprise, and also the advantage of movement. The Galra begin to circle it, and the Gronckle snarls and spits a warning jet of lava-like flames. But it can’t move very far without giving up its defensive position, and the Galra know it.   
  
“This one’s for the arena for sure,” one of the guards crows. “Look at the size of it! It’ll amuse the chief, no question.”   
  
One of the men tries to get too close, and the Gronckle snaps at his weapon, wrenching it out of the attacker’s hands and flinging it aside. But a second takes advantage of the dragon’s distraction, and cracks the Gronckle over the head with its mace. The Gronckle’s thick hide absorbs most of the damage, but it stumbles sideways, and a third flings a set of bolas to wrap up the dragon’s front legs.   
  
“Oh no they don’t,” Hunk growls, standing up. Something about this just _infuriates_ him. “This is an unfair fight. He’s just trying to protect his friends. They’ve got _no right_.”  
  
“Hunk, what are you doing?” Lance hisses.   
  
“You heard them,” Hunk snaps. “They’re gonna kill all the dragons here and ship the rest off for those awful fight arenas. We can’t let that happen, and we can’t wait for the others to come back here.” He’s not even sure why he’s so furious, all of a sudden, but he can just _relate_ to that big Gronckle. He knows what it’s like to struggle to protect your friends, and not be quite strong enough to do it. He can’t even imagine what it might be like to watch your friends suffer and starve like that, and not even be able to help, all because of these Galra. It’s just _wrong_. It’s wrong, and he feels like maybe he can do something about it.   
  
That’s what being a member of the dragon alliance is all about, right?  
  
He reaches over his shoulder to the shield and axe strapped to his back. Like everyone from their village he’s proficient in several forms of combat, even if it’s not really his favorite pass-time. But Hunk is a lot like these Gronckles—not prone to aggression, but make him angry and you’ll regret it.   
  
He draws the axe, leaps over the ridge, and flings it as hard as he can at the nearest Galra.  
  
It hits the guy hard in his metal breastplate. It doesn’t kill, but it does knock him over into the next guard, and that buys him a few seconds to get close.   
  
“Okay, I guess this is a thing we’re doing now!” Lance hollers, with a trace of panic. But Hunk is gratified to hear the _whiz-thunk_ of an arrow a moment later as it zips past him and thuds into the nearest viking’s arm. The man screeches in pain and drops his weapon. Hunk grabs the shield off his back, and rams it into the man’s head as hard as he can with a practiced movement. He groans and slumps to the ground.  
  
That leaves two still standing, and both charge at Hunk with loud yells, abandoning the Gronckle. Hunk is equal to that, and sets his shoulder behind his shield. His entire clan is particularly gifted with the art of the shield in combat, with the motto that an impenetrable defense can also make a good offense, and he charges behind it. The shield bash stuns both guards, and Hunk cracks one in the head with the edge of his shield to take him down too. Lance finishes off the second with another arrow.  
  
The others are starting to climb to their feet, but that gives Hunk a few seconds. He recovers his axe and rushes for the massive bound Gronckle. It snarls warningly for a moment, and the smaller Gronckles behind it mewl in fear and cower, but Hunk raises his shield hand placatingly. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” he reassures, with as friendly a smile as he can manage. “I’m just gonna cut you free—there.” A quick slice with the axe, and the bola cords split apart, freeing the massive Gronckle’s legs.   
  
It rolls to its feet, and immediately spits a lava blast in Hunk’s direction. Hunk yelps in alarm, until he hears a screech of pain behind him. The Galra that had been about to stab him from behind screams and throws himself to the ground, rolling around frantically to try and put himself out. Definitely out of the fight.   
  
“Thanks,” Hunk says. “Guess that makes us even. Uh. Dragon.”   
  
The Gronckle growls, and then sets itself firmly between its brethren and the Galra again.   
  
But there’s only one man left, now, the one Hunk had initially stunned with his axe throw. The man’s eyes widen, and he turns and bolts, pulling a horn from his belt and blowing into it. A loud note fills the air, and although Lance snipes the escaper a moment later, the damage is done.  
  
“Busted,” Hunk mutters, as he replaces his shield and axe on his back. “Gotta run, um…dragon. You take care of your friends, be careful!”   
  
The Gronckle growls in agreement, and immediately turns, stomping and snarling as it herds the weaker dragons into the crack-cave. Hunk regards it fondly for a moment, and then bolts for Lance.  
  
“Okay, new plan,” Lance hisses, as they both thunder back up through the rocky outcroppings towards where they left Skyscale. “We’re busted anyway, and they’re gonna take it out on those wild dragons unless we do something.”  
  
“Not an option,” Hunk says immediately, frowning. He’s not getting those dragons into trouble, not after all the hard work the big one had done trying to protect its own.   
  
“Obviously,” Lance says, shooting him a weak grin. “So let’s go for broke. Me and Skyscale will make it clear it’s us that’s the problem. We’ll trash those ships, see if we can’t ruin their day a little, take the sights off the wild dragons. And when their eyes are on me, you try to figure out what kind of weapon they were building since they’re so set on hiding it. At least we can go back to Shiro and give him _something_ then.”  
  
Hunk groans. He’d been so caught up in the moment he’d completely forgotten about having to report back to Shiro. He was probably going to be furious at them for tipping off the Galra that they were on to them early. “Okay,” he agrees. “But be careful, Lance. That’s a lot of guys out there.”  
  
“Please. Me’n Skyscale can handle it.” They reach the top of the bluffs, where Skyscale is already pacing anxiously, alerted by the noise. “Okay, Beautiful. Time to go to work.” He launches onto her back with practiced ease, and she takes off into the air.   
  
Hunk grimaces. This was _not_ what he’d had in mind when Shiro first told them they were just doing a scouting mission. But they’re in deep now—might as well finish it. Besides, he doesn’t regret saving those wild dragons, not after how cruel the Galra have been to them here.   
  
Now to just make the most of it.  
  
Getting back to the forge is easy now that Hunk knows the way. And by the time he gets there, it’s nearly abandoned, with most of the guards having run off towards the docks to deal with the sudden dragon rider attack. Hunk knocks out the two smiths with a quick set of shield bashes, and pushes his way into the warehouse.  
  
The contraption in the middle is definitely no ordinary weapon. Parts of it remind him of a ballistae or a catapult, but instead of a massive bow or a sling for a boulder, there’s a winch instead. It’s huge, and thick chains with links as big as his hands are coiled around the centerpiece. At the top is something a bit like a wickedly barbed hook, attached to the chains.   
  
Hunk frowns. “And what are _you_ supposed to be?” he wonders, as he runs his hands carefully over the contraption. The lever on the side is a bit loose, and touching it sends the hook firing towards the nearest wall, dragging the chains with it. It doesn’t get very far, however, and the shot is weak, collapsing before it actually impales the wall.  
  
“Woah!” Hunk jerks back in surprise. “Woah, okay, _that’s_ not a fun kind of toy.” He picks at the item further, examining the pieces that put it together. “Ah, I see. The calibration of this is a little off. Good thing, too. If you got it right, you could fling even heavy metal and chains like this up… in the…sky….”   
  
Oh. Oh, _no_. Suddenly he has an awful feeling he knows what’s in those crates they saw being transported earlier.   
  
Hunk takes a few seconds to ram a length of metal into the grapple launcher, and uses it to break the thing apart. It’s the best he can do, without access to dragon fire, or the time to pull it apart more completely at the forge. Then he turns and runs out the door with all the speed he can manage.   
  
He’s pretty sure Lance has just flown into big trouble.   
  
He’s halfway to the occupied docks when he gets his first look at a fully calibrated launcher. Lance has destroyed two of the ships with Skyscale, but a thick silver chain fires from the decks of a third, swift and sudden. Lance and Skyscale swerve in midair in alarm, but the dodge puts them right in the path of a second chain, which wraps around Skyscale’s tail and one of her legs. Even at this distance Hunk can see her screeching in alarm, and Lance frantically trying to draw bow and arrow to figure out what to fire on.   
  
Hunk can see the crowd of Galra on the decks a lot more clearly, though. They haven’t noticed him yet—their eyes are all on the dragon chained in midair—but even with that element of surprise, there’s no way Hunk can take down that many Galra soldiers solo.   
  
For the first time since joining the dragon alliance, Hunk desperately wishes he could fly. A dragon could get in there and maybe free them. Maybe—  
  
 _Maybe I can,_ Hunk realizes, eyes wide. And he turns and runs away from the docks, Lance, and Skyscale—and towards the mines.  
  
The Gronckles are still there when Hunk reaches the little cracked cave, including the massive sandstone one. It snarls for a moment when Hunk approaches, but relaxes when it recognizes him. Hunk pants hard, puts his hands on his knees, and gasps through his harsh breaths, “Help me—please—“  
  
The Gronckle lets out a low rumble of confusion.   
  
“Please,” Hunk repeats, regaining his breath enough to speak. “Please, I—I’m not asking you to be my partner or anything, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to after, but—my friend Lance, the other guy that helped me save you, he’s—he’s in trouble, him and his dragon, I’ve got to help them—please. Just help me save them, just this once.” He holds out his hand like the others have all described, feeling more like he’s pleading with the creature than anything else.  
  
The Gronckle studies him for a moment, and seems to be considering. Then, slowly, it steps forward and places its blunt nose in his palm, pressing forward gently. Its skin is rough like stone, and feels different than all the other dragons Hunk has ridden on to date.   
  
“Thank you,” Hunk says, relieved. “I really appreciate it, dragon.”   
  
The Gronckle crouches enough to let Hunk scramble onto its back. On a regular sized Gronckle sitting would be a little awkward, but this one is so huge that Hunk can cling with his knees comfortably, just like he does when riding as a passenger on Skyscale. Unlike Skyscale, there’s no harness to hold onto, and as the Gronckle stands back up Hunk sways off balance and hastily grabs at its webbed ears. The Gronckle growls a little, and Hunk winces. “Sorry. No handholds. I’ll try not to pull too hard.”  
  
The dragon snorts, and then launches into the air.   
  
Hunk winces and waits for the inevitable lurching feeling of first taking flight, and the constant up and down motions of flapping, but it never comes. To his amazement, the Gronckle’s wing beats are so fast, like an insect’s, that it doesn’t seem to flap so much as float. Hunk doesn’t feel his stomach in his throat as he flies, and for the first time he doesn’t feel sick as soon as he its the air. He’s genuinely surprised to find that flying like this actually isn’t completely awful feeling, and lets out a shocked little laugh. “Wow! This isn’t so bad!”  
  
Then he remembers his mission when he hears another distant grapple launcher shot, and his eyes narrow. “We need to head for the docks, as fast as we can,” he tells the Gronckle, tugging gently on its right ear for direction. It snorts in acknowledgement, and turns to do just that.  
  
The Gronckle’s not as fast as the other dragons in the alliance, but they make it there quick enough even so. And with good timing—as the docks come into view, Hunk can see that his friends aren’t doing so well. Skyscale is lower in the air now, and wrapped up by three chains from various ships. The first is still wrapped firmly around her leg and tail, keeping her from shooting any spines. A second is wrapped around her muzzle and hooked on some of her crest, preventing her from using any flame. And the final is wrapped around her torso and back—and Lance as well, who’s pinned to her scales by the chains, unable to free himself enough to untangle her or shoot with his bow. Skyscale flaps frantically, but the Galra are slowly but surely dragging her down towards the ships with their winches.  
  
“We need to free them!” Hunk yells to the Gronckle. “That middle chain—if we can break it, Lance can get free and help.”  
  
The Gronckle growls in acknowledgement again—and makes a beeline straight for the chain. They shoot over the heads of the Galra, who yell in surprise and go for their bows. The dragon seems watchful, but Hunk narrows his eyes and pulls his shield off his back again. “Easy, big guy. I’ll watch your back, and you watch theirs.”   
  
The Gronckle snorts. Several arrows fire, but Hunk snaps out his shield to take the hits instead, and the arrowheads bounce off harmlessly. He can feel the Gronckle’s muscles relax slightly beneath him a second later, and the creature pushes up its speed another notch, heading straight for the chain.   
  
“Stop that dragon!” one of the Galra shouts from below. “Hurry!”  
  
But they’re too late. The Gronckle takes a deep breath, and spits a gout of lava flames all over the chains. The links begin melting immediately, and as they whip past it, Hunk reaches out with his shield to smash into the molten metal.   
  
The chains snap, and Skyscale immediately gains a few feet in the air. Lance starts shoving the chain wrappings off of himself as soon as they’re looser, and immediately fits an arrow to his bow and fires at the Galra working the winch and chain holding Skyscale’s jaw closed. The man screeches in pain and releases the lever, and Skyscale flies higher still, dragging the entire winch with her.  
  
“One more!” Hunk says. “We just need to— _look out!_ ”  
  
The Galra try firing another grapple and chain. Hunk tugs on the Gronckle’s ears, and the creature lists right with a surprised yowl. The barbed hook misses them by inches, and falls harmlessly to the water. The Gronckle is clever enough to take advantage of the moment, and spits another molten blast at the final chain binding Skyscale’s leg and tail. Hunk works in unison with the dragon almost without thinking to dive-bomb the melting links and shatter them again, and with a crash of metal Skyscale is finally free.  
  
“Up, up, quick!” Hunk yelps, and both dragons soar into the air and the clouds, out of range of the grapples and out of sight.   
  
“Hunk!” Lance says, in a mix of panic, relief, and disbelief. “You guys saved our lives! Geez, nice timing!” Even as he speaks, he leaps to his feet on Skyscale’s back, and helps untangle the remains of the chains still dangling from her crest and jaw. She shakes her tail and leg to dislodge the metal from her spines.   
  
“Yeah, well, this guy deserves some credit too,” Hunk says, patting the Gronckle on the head. “He was nice enough to agree to help.” The dragon growls in agreement. “But I don’t think we’re done yet. Those winches are dangerous. What do you say we take care of these guys before they hurt any more of the local dragons?”  
  
“I’m down for being a hero today,” Lance says, as he finally tosses the last of the chains overboard. “Besides, those guys hurt Skyscale. Now I’m _mad_.”  
  
Hunk glances down at the Gronckle. “You in?”  
  
It lets out a savage growl of agreement.   
  
On their own it might have been tricky, but they’re joined by a small horde of local Gronckles, inspired by their protector and finally pushed too far by the Galra. Making short work of the Galra ships is easy after that. The Gronckles’ lava-like flames are able to melt the remaining winches, and Skyscale’s spines and flames are enough to decimate the wooden ships. The forge they blow sky-high, and by the time they’re done the only humans left on the island are Lance and Hunk.   
  
“Not bad, for a scouting mission,” Lance says with a smirk after the battle. “Saved dragons, discovered a new weapon the Galra are using, _and_ won back control of an island from them. This is going to be the best report in a long time. I can’t wait to see Keith’s face when he hears how awesome we were and he _wasn’t._ ”   
  
Skyscale squawks in agreement.  
  
Hunk shakes his head a little as he finishes wrecking the last of the winches. He thinks he can rebuild them easily, and even make some improvements to turn them into useful ship-fighting weapons for the _Lioness_ , but for now they’re better off destroyed. The Galra have probably delivered a lot of them already, but at least _these_ ones won’t be used against dragons anymore.  
  
“We should probably get back,” he finally says, when he finishes and climbs back to his feet. “We’re already probably later than we should be.” He looks back at the pack of Gronckles surrounding them, including the big one he’d ridden on. “You guys should be safe, now. These guys aren’t going to be stealing your food and threatening you anymore.”   
  
But when he heads for Lance and Skyscale so they can leave, the big Gronckle follows him. It rumbles when Lance holds a hand out to Hunk to help him swing on, and quiets when Hunk turns to look at him.  
  
Lance grins. “Heh. I think this time you made a friend, Hunk.”  
  
“Wh—me?” Hunk looks around in bewilderment, and then points at himself. The Gronckle growls. “What—you want to stay with me?” It growls again, and takes a step forward. “I—but—but your friends—you don’t _have_ to come you know, I promised—“   
  
It steps forward and nudges its blunt horn gently against his hip. Hunk blinks, and then grins, rubbing his hands gently on its rough-skinned head. “Okay. I guess you’re mind’s made up. Partners, then.”   
  
The Gronckle rumbles in agreement.   
  
So Ironheart joins the team as well. The others are surprised when Hunk comes back to the island on his own dragon, but also excited. “We’ve practically got a full wing of dragon-knights again!” Coran says excitedly, and Allura looks so pleased at the sight Hunk can’t help but smile back. The others congratulate him, Shiro tells them both they’d done a good job considering the circumstances.   
  
Joining dragon rider training is a little tricky, at first; Ironheart’s flight is much smoother, but Hunk’s still not made for the agile maneuvers and fast flight of the others, and it occasionally still leaves him queasy. What Ironheart can’t match in agility and speed, though, he can make up for in brute endurance and strength, and it lets them add new strategies to their arsenal of tactics.   
  
More importantly, though, Hunk _gets_ the dragon connection for the first time. Ironheart is much like himself—relaxed and friendly, but only until his friends are in danger. Hunk’s never really enjoyed combat much, but he does like that if he is to assume a place amongst the riders, it’s as a defender and a shield, and Ironheart appears to be of like mind.   
  
They might not be the most experienced or the speediest of dragons, but they will be there to protect their friends when needed, and their family, and those hundreds of other humans and dragons alike put in danger by the Galra. And to Hunk and his dragon, that’s what matters the most.


	6. The Altar of Storms

Weeks pass, and the team gets stronger still. The dragon alliance has really started to come into its own, and everyone is really beginning to find their places on the team, both as riders with their dragons and as individuals.  
  
Shiro couldn’t be more proud of any of them.   
  
They’ve all done well, and they are becoming well known in this area of the seas, now. With four dragons they cover more ground, take on more dangerous missions and outposts, free more villages, save more dragons. Civilians in the area are starting to trust the alliance’s dragons now, not cower in fear when they approach. Dragons aren’t as frightened of the riders when they see how well they work with fellow dragons. The Galra are learning to fear them, learning who they are. The waters are clearer of Galra ships, and the Galra find more resistance on islands they do come to, both from the alliance and the humans and dragons that live there on their own.  
  
Shiro knows it’s only a drop in the bucket, really. The Galra have been conquering for over a century, based on what Allura and Coran tell them. Their tribe has expanded massively, handing down control from chief to chief for generations. They’re skilled, know how to fight dragons, and the lands farther to the east are far more firmly under their control than on these outskirts. It will take more than harrying supply lines, interfering with communications, wrecking small groups of ships, or freeing one or two islands, to really stop the Galra horde.  
  
But even so, it feels good to make a difference, even a little one. To fight back and to know he and the others are doing everything they can to protect their homeland, and to protect the innocent people that deserve it. To finally see humans and dragons interacting as a unit, without fear and distrust, even on a small scale like theirs. And that’s a start.   
  
And as their operation has grown, Shiro has had a chance to watch the rest of his team grow, too. All of them have really come into their own, and revealed unique and useful skills and abilities that never might have come to light if they didn’t join in this war.   
  
He’s known Keith for a long time, but he’s never seen Keith seem quite so at home as he is with Red and amongst the alliance. Keith’s always been a part of their home island, and he’s always been a skilled fighter and loyal to their chief, but he’s always lacked direction and focus. He seems to have found what he needs most since joining the alliance—a purpose, something he wants with all his heart to fight for. He’s grown closer to the team, and so has Red, both becoming more willing to work with and protect the rest of the humans and dragons. He takes the fight against the Galra clansmen seriously, protecting people and dragons alike—and he’s developed an incredible sense for the dragons in particular.   
  
Most of the team has bonded with one specific dragon, but Keith has proven to be surprisingly adept at instinctively taming almost any of them. He’s been able to ride more than one of the beasts when split from Red during missions, and even convince the other riders’ dragons to let him fly them in deadly combat situations when their real riders have been in trouble. Of course, he always goes back to Red, and the two are so strongly bonded Shiro never stops being impressed by it.   
  
Lance has grown more confident— _really_ confident, not false bravado—since the whole mess began. He still has his rivalry with Keith, but he uses it to work hard and make himself stronger and more useful to the team. His bond with Skyscale is noteworthy, and he spends hours doting on her, cleaning her scales to a sparkling shine and talking to her constantly. They are by far the most easygoing pair on the team, but in combat they’re not to be underestimated. Lance can shoot impressively well from moving dragonback, and his range has improved considerably thanks to the specialized bows Pidge and Hunk have designed for him. He’s covered—and saved—everyone on the team more than once, and is invaluable when range is needed in sensitive areas where the rest of the dragons’ flames will draw attention or do too much damage. Skyscale’s aim is equally impressive and just as deadly, and between the two of them they are an invaluable part of the riders.   
  
Hunk has also grown more confident in combat, and he and Ironheart are useful contributors in any battle. But where Hunk really shines is behind the scenes. He and his dragon have expanded on their forge and developed a new form of light but strong metal they call ‘Gronckle iron,’ and it’s improved everyone’s abilities considerably. Ironheart adores working with his rider to create things and protect the others, and the two are a perfect match as they work the forge. Hunk is forever building improvements on their saddles, for the _Lioness_ , and simply for every day tools and necessities; truly, they’d be sunk without him. And of course, his cooking is exceptional, keeping them all healthy and energized for the long fight. Even Allura and Coran, not as familiar with viking delicacies, admit that his food is incredible.  
  
And when Hunk and Pidge work together, the results are even more impressive. While she works well with her brother and their dragon for missions of stealth and combat, she’s definitely one of the most intelligent of the vikings, and her skills shine just as well back at base. She’s incredible at designing concepts or ideas for building things, and sketching out blueprints and concepts. Once the idea is there, Hunk can make it a reality. Between the two of them they’ve already made a number of improvements to the _Lioness’_ weaponry, stronger defenses for the team, and more efficient tools. They’ve even made improvements to the cap on the remnants of Shiro’s right arm, and invented a variety of useful weaponry or tools that he can swap between to make his life a little easier. He’s quite partial to the sword for combat; it’s light and easy to maneuver, feels like an extension of his own hand, and lets him hold his own just a little better in a fight.   
  
When Matt is added to the mix, the three of them are an unholy terror of invention. Matt has rapidly grown into his own on the team as their resident field medic and dragon expert. Shiro’s known Matt for a long time, too, and Matt had always been clever—but had always felt out of place on an island full of combatants when he could never hold his own. In the past Shiro had often stood up for him where he couldn’t hold his own, and Matt had always been grateful, but also frustrated with the fact that he even needed the assistance. Here, his scholarly skills are of great use, and his knowledge has helped the team more than once. Shiro has been able to visually see an improvement in Matt’s overall confidence on the team. When his expertise of dragons is added to his sister’s inventive nature and Hunk’s ability to build almost anything, the results are spectacular. They’re already working on ways to include things like flammable Monstrous Nightmare gel, Zippleback gas, and dragon acids or venoms into working weapons that can be used to strengthen them even further against the Galra.   
  
And of course, Matt and Pidge work well with their own dragon. Flint and Tinder are valued members of the team, and each head is useful in combat and in stealth. Although they’ve both bonded with the whole dragon, each head has a clear preference for its rider, and each one has developed its own relationship with its human. Pidge and Flint are the more hot-headed of each pair, and work well in situations that require quick and aggressive thinking. Matt and Tinder are a little more cautious, analyzing before striking. Both heads are incredibly protective of their riders, though, and the loyalty is incredible to see. Both heads will listen to Pidge ramble for hours about her latest ideas without falling asleep, and both will frequently act as Matt’s minder when he gets so absorbed in documenting new dragon species and taking notes that he forgets to do important things like _run when there is danger._ The siblings have even swapped heads before in the heat of battle with no notable difference in their combat performance.   
  
Really, it’s incredible to see how far each of them have come, and Shiro can’t help but be impressed. None of them are the same people they were back on their island. They’ve all grown, and they’ve all bonded so strongly with beasts that a year ago every single one of them would have killed without question. This experience has been enlightening; they’re really all meant to be with their dragons. Shiro watches fondly every time he sees them interact with their partners. When Red and Keith play-fight and wrestle together. When Lance and Skyscale do flashy spins and loops through the air just for fun and excitement. When Hunk uses Ironheart as a sounding board when he works through a building problem. When Matt and Pidge sniff out useful medicinal herbs with their dragon’s help, or playfully tease it with colored reflections and watch both heads enthusiastically give chase.  
  
Shiro wonders what that kind of strong bond with a dragon might be like.  
  
He knows the others have often eyed him sideways or talked about it why he’s not around—about how it’s been months and he’s still never bonded with any kind of dragon. He knows Allura and Coran have both made not so subtle suggestions that it’s unusual for the leader of a wing of dragons to be flightless themselves. And he knows it does put him in difficult positions, sometimes, when he’s the only one on the team that can’t fly.   
  
It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ a dragon. He respects the creatures well at this point, no matter how many he’d killed in the arena. He knows they aren’t savage beasts. He’s seen how gentle all of the team’s dragons have been with their riders, and even with the others’ riders and dragons. Certainly he’s gotten good at working with all of them—he knows how to direct each rider to best take advantage of their dragons’ abilities, and he knows Red, Skyscale, Flint and Tinder, and Ironheart all acknowledge him as the leader and will listen to him even if their riders are compromised. He can even interact with wild dragons, well enough to free them and get them to safety if need be.   
  
It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ a dragon, and he’s even tried interacting with a few more closely when they rescue the creatures, but none of the ones he’s met have ever really… _clicked_. The creatures respect him and he respects them, but he doesn’t feel connected to them on a more personal level, the way the rest of the riders have described their connections with their own dragons. None of them have ever felt like _his_ dragon.   
  
So he’s remained without a partner months later. And he does what he can to contribute in every other possible way. He leads the team, makes the calls and tactical decisions, and makes it a point to know as much as he can about what every one of them, dragon and rider alike, is capable of. He fights whenever needed, and no one doubts his prowess in combat, especially after Hunk and Pidge upgrade him with additional weapons.   
  
But even with all that, he still feels a little disconnected from the rest of them. He can’t _really_ lead the dragon riders without truly being one himself.   
  
He wonders if he maybe just wasn’t meant to be a rider. Not after everything he’s done to dragons himself.   
  
Still, despite his doubts, the alliance works well. They’re a thorn in the Galra’s side and make a difference to both human and dragon alike. Things are going well.  
  
Then the Galra find their island.   
  
They first learn of the imminent attack in the late afternoon. Most of them are on the deck of the _Lioness_ or on the beach of the cove, training or working on repairs to the ship, when Lance comes winging in on Skyscale. The dragon lands unusually clumsily on the deck of the ship, collapsing in a heap, and Lance staggers off of her, looking exhausted and more than a little frightened.  
  
“Lance?” Shiro asks with a frown, as Pidge and Matt both run forward. Pidge supports a weary-looking Lance, while Matt is already examining the collapsed Nadder for injury. “What happened? You were supposed to be on a scouting mission—“  
  
“Had to bail. Saw something else.” Lance’s chest heaves with exhaustion, and Coran appears from below decks to hand him a water skin. Lance downs half the skin in one shot, then says with a slightly less raspy voice, “They’ve found us.”  
  
Shiro feels ice in his heart at the proclamation, and turns to Matt and Pidge. “Get the others. Now.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later they’re gathered on the beach—every rider, every dragon, Allura and Coran, even the flock of Terrible Terrors that keep watch on the island. In better times Lance would be delighted with such an audience. Now he’s deadly serious as he explains what he’s seen. “More than a dozen ships, at least. Maybe twenty. All armed with those grapple launchers me and Hunk discovered, or catapults, or ballistae. They’ve pulled out all the stops for dragon combat. The lead ship is flying Sendak’s flag.”  
  
Shiro’s eyes narrow. Sendak—the warrior in charge of this region. Based on the intelligence they’ve gathered, he’s supposed to be one of the Galra clan’s most trusted fighters, enough to be put in charge of the outer edge of the Galra’s territory, enforcing the expansion and conquering of islands. He’s a real nasty brute who believes in strength over all else, but he’s also smart, and that makes him dangerous. It’s Sendak’s region they’ve been harrying for months, and Shiro’s sure the man has grown tired of their guerrilla tactics.   
  
“He’s bringing the fight to us,” Shiro says grimly. “He’s always had the numbers to outmaneuver us if he could figure out where we are.”  
  
“He’s definitely got them now,” Lance says, looking worried. “We’ve got maybe until dawn and he’s gonna be on us. We need to get out of here!”  
  
“We can’t run,” Keith shoots back hotly. “We can’t just turn tail and fly the moment they threaten us. What kind of dragon riders would we be then?”  
  
“We’ve beaten twenty ships before,” Pidge agrees stubbornly. “We can do it again.”  
  
“Hate to disagree, but we’ve never done it without the element of surprise,” Matt says, shaking his head at his sister. “We’ve taken out that many before, but always under the cover of nightfall with an ambush attack. We don’t have surprise here.”  
  
“And we’ve never fought that many ships with those armaments before,” Hunk adds, looking nervous. “You guys have seen those grapple launchers in action, now. They’re not easy to avoid, and if most of the ships are armed with them…”  
  
“They are,” Lance confirms. “No way we can take them all down. We put up a good fight, but we’ve gotta _go._ ”  
  
“The _Lioness_ isn’t capable of escaping, yet,” Coran interjects. “She can sail, but not quickly. If we were to flee we’d be caught in open ocean, and our defenses aren’t properly set up yet.”   
  
“Then we abandon the ship,” Hunk says. “We can carry you, Allura, and Shiro on our dragons and get out of here by air before they catch up—“  
  
“Leaving is not an option,” Allura interjects. Her voice is commanding, the voice of royalty, and everyone looks to her automatically. She stands tall and proud in her armor, and her expression is set in determination.   
  
“You didn’t see them, Allura,” Lance says, sounding incredulous. “I know you guys are all about taking down the Galra, but—“  
  
“This is not a matter of pride, or my duty to my country,” Allura says. “We cannot abandon this island now. Or have you forgotten the Altar of Storms?” Her eyes narrow. “We cannot allow the Galra to find it. We cannot allow the unifiers to fall into the hands of the Galra. The guardian of the skies must remain protected.”  
  
“If they’re even watching,” Lance mutters under his breath. Hunk nods in agreement.   
  
Shiro doesn’t blame them for their skepticism. They’ve been here for months, but even with all their progress in the region, with bonding two more dragons and easing tensions between human and dragon alike, no dragon has ever appeared at the Altar. Allura goes up regularly, sometimes riding on the backs of one of their dragons, sometimes taking the footpaths up the plateaus, to try and call the creatures. She lights the braziers regularly and calls to the guardians of the sky in supplication, asking for their assistance in the fight. But none have ever come.   
  
Shiro wonders if anything they’ve done has been enough, or if it’s all been too little, too late. Assuming these ‘unifiers’ are still alive, and haven’t been slaughtered by the Galra decades ago.  
  
“We cannot abandon the Altar so easily,” Allura says sternly. “It is sacred. Besides the need to protect it and everything it represents from the Galra, it is also our only way to even try and communicate with the creatures, now. Once they came freely to Altea, but with our lands in ruins and our people decimated…”  
  
“I get how important this is,” Matt says, “And trust me, I’d _love_ to document anything I could about a Nightfury. But I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to make our last stand for a dragon that hasn’t bothered to show itself and might not join our cause anyway.”  
  
“Agreed,” Hunk says. “If we die here, we can’t keep making a difference anywhere else. Plus they’ll kill our dragons, or throw them into the arenas.” He rubs a hand over Ironheart’s head, and the dragon lets out a low rumble.  
  
“We can’t _run_ ,” Keith repeats, agitated. “If we flee now Sendak will just take it as a message that he can scare us. He’ll never stop terrorizing the villages and dragons in this area then.”  
  
“He’ll take it as a message that he can just keep moving forward,” Pidge adds with fierce agreement. “Towards our _home_.”   
  
There’s tension crackling in the air now, and Shiro can see it reflected in the dragons, all of which are starting to get antsy in response to their riders’ distress. “ _Enough_ ,” he says, loud enough that everyone freezes and turns to stare at him, even the dragons.  
  
“Everyone has good points here,” Shiro says, once he has their attention. “We can’t abandon the Altar completely, but Sendak is too dangerous an opponent to face head-on with the current resources and dragons we have.” He glances at the sky. “Lance estimated we have until dawn before Sendak is here, and it’ll be dark in a few hours. We have a little time to act, still.   
  
“Princess, we’ll all go to the Altar of Storms one last time, and make one last plea.” He nods to her. “If there’s ever a time for it to show up, it will be now. But if it doesn’t come by moonrise, we have to go. We don’t have a choice.”  
  
Allura frowns. “But the unifier—“  
  
“—isn’t needed for us to do any actual unifying,” Shiro says, gesturing at the rest of the riders and their dragons. “We’ve done it fine on our own. Look, princess—I understand that this dragon is important to you, and I’m sure if it we had a Nightfury on our side battles would be a lot easier. But right now, we are the _only_ ones capable of fighting—and the Galra know what our dragons are capable of. This battle has been designed to be on _their_ terms, and we’re not strong enough for that yet. We can appeal to this dragon, but if it doesn’t come, we _have_ to leave. We’re the only ones standing in the way of the Galra at all—we can’t afford to die here.”   
  
Allura’s lips press together in a thin line, but she finally nods. “I understand,” she says after a moment. “But I will not give up hope on the guardian of the sky yet. Surely, one will come. We have tried so hard to live by the old codes, to show that humanity is worth saving, to show human and dragon can live together in unity…it must be enough. It has to be. Let us reach out to the creature one last time, at least.”   
  
So they do. All of them head to the Altar of Storms together, riding on the dragons. Most of them look a mixture of uneasy and hopeful, and Allura looks determined, with just an edge of desperation.   
  
And Shiro…Shiro doesn’t know what to feel. Truth be told, he’s never come back to the Altar since the first day, when Allura first showed it to them. He’s never forgotten the way those stone carvings’ eyes seem to bore into his, like they’re judging him. Counting each kill, human and dragon alike, that weighs on his soul, and finding him unworthy. He’s never quite been able to bring himself to go back, but now…now, they’re out of time, and they don’t have a choice. He’ll see this through one last time, because they’re desperate. And if nothing comes of it…well, maybe that fault is on him, then, and the judgements on his soul.   
  
But if so, he’ll still do what he can to protect the others, humans and dragons both.   
  
The dragons land on the plateau around the Altar of Storms, just as the sky begins to light on fire and the sun begins to drop out of the sky. Shiro slides off Red’s back and approaches the stone disc in the center cautiously, with the other riders.   
  
“What do we do?” Hunk asks, looking around at the Altar curiously. “Never actually tried to help summon a dragon before now…”  
  
“Light the braziers first, so it can see our signal,” Matt supplies. He and Pidge have come up more than once to try and help Allura summon the guardian of the sky, out of curiosity and excitement. Matt and Pidge both make quick hand gestures, and Flint and Tinder twist their heads and fire a stream of noxious gas at the closest of the braziers, sparking and setting the whole thing alight.   
  
As if this is a signal to the other dragons, they all jump into help. Red cuts loose with a stream of fire at the brazier closest to her, and Ironheart spits a lava-fire burst into the one closest to him. Skyscale is last, with a bright white blast of flames into the final brazier, sending sparks alight. The flames are so intense that for a moment Shiro swears he sees different colors in them, but then the braziers burn orange, and the statues and stone disc seem to flicker in the cast light. The eyes of the stone representations almost seem alive.   
  
“And now?” Hunk asks, eyeing Matt questioningly.   
  
“Now we ask for help,” Matt says, gesturing to Allura.  
  
She steps forward on the great stone disc, opens her arms towards the sky, and closes her eyes. And she starts to speak. Shiro isn’t sure what she’s saying, exactly—it’s in some other language that he doesn’t understand—but it sounds melodic and heartfelt, and somehow it _feels_ like some sort of prayer or plea. There’s strength to her words, but also an edge of fear and desperation that Shiro knows is all too real. Allura may put on a noble and controlled mask, but she’s just as frightened by their incoming attackers and their uncertain fate as the rest of them.   
  
More than anything, right now they need a miracle. Some way to fight back, to break the horde. They have the willingness to fight, they just need the _strength_ for it. And without even thinking about it, Shiro voices his thoughts as Allura calls out to the beast formally. He doesn’t drown her out, but he doesn’t speak lowly, either. “Please. I don’t know if you’re out there, Nightfury, but we’re doing what we can to fight back. If you’re ever going to come…we need your help, now.”   
  
The others add their own pleas. Hunk mutters under his breath with his eyes closed. Lance yells brazenly into the sky with his hands cupping his mouth, but his voice shakes with anxiety. Pidge and Matt call for the creature together, and Keith glares at the sky but asks for help almost hesitantly. Coran’s hands are folded as if in prayer, but he’s speaking calmly, the same words in the same time as Allura. Even the dragons add their own pleas, roaring and bellowing into the clouds together, each cry distinct and loud.   
  
But nothing happens, and no dragon comes. The oranges and reds and golds that paint the sky fade slowly into deep blues and blacks, and the stars begin to wink into existence above them. The statues seem to flicker in and out of the shadows, lit only by the for braziers, and the curled Nightfury on the stone disc stares at them unfeelingly.   
  
Shiro can’t help but feel disappointment as he stares at those eyes. They’ve been judged unworthy. If this unifier is even alive, it's not coming. Shiro can hardly blame the creature, really. After everything he’s seen the Galra do—after things he’s done himself—he can see why it wouldn’t find them worth saving.   
  
The moon starts to come out, and Shiro closes his eyes with a tired sigh. Time’s up, with nothing to show for it. They need to start moving now, gathering supplies and preparing to run, before it’s too late to escape. They’ll need time to destroy the _Lioness_ too—they can’t let it fall into Galra hands, and if it can’t escape on its own, they’ll have to take preventative measures. There’s too much to do, and they still need enough time to get a head start, to disappear before Sendak can find them. If they can, they need time to warn villages and dragon colonies in the surrounding area as well, because Sendak will doubtless see this as a victory and taking it out on the islands around them. Things are about to get very unpleasant in this section of the sea.   
  
He opens his eyes and looks around at the rest of his team. They look so dejected, so defeated. Allura looks weary and helpless, and he’s never seen her look like that before, not even when she speaks about her lost country. Shiro sighs, and glances up at the stars one last time, willing himself to have enough strength to make the call, and—  
  
—and the stars _flicker_ , for just a second, disappearing and reappearing in a flash of black.   
  
His eyes widen, and he hisses, “Something’s coming.”  
  
The others look around in confusion, but their questions are drowned out in the sudden whistling  screaming noise. Shiro’s never heard anything like it before—but before he can even begin to try and comprehend it, something swoops overhead, lightning-fast and all but invisible in the dark. Shiro throws up his hands to protect himself as a blast of wind whips across the plateau, and he hears the others yelp in alarm as dust is kicked up and the brazier flames whirl wildly in the gusts. The dragons roar in surprise.   
  
Shiro coughs at the dust in his throat, and blinks it out of his eyes. He’s aware that they could be in danger, and glances around hastily for the source of the attack.   
  
That’s when he notices that one of the statues has gotten taller, and grown a second set of eyes—eyes that aren’t stone, but glitter gold in the brazier-light, pupils narrowed to slits, as it watches them all.   
  
It’s difficult to make the dragon out completely in the dark. Its scales are jet black, with lighter dark blue and gray spots that let it blend in surprisingly well in the shadows. Perched atop one of the statues of its likeness, it’s almost impossible to see against the backdrop of the night sky. In fact, other than its eyes, and the curious patch of lighter scales on its chest and shoulders that form an odd ‘V’ shape, it’s almost invisible.   
  
But even so, Shiro is entranced by the creature. He can see now why the Alteans revere it—there’s something noble and graceful about it inherently, and he doesn’t even need to know the beast on a personal level to recognize it. Something about this creature feels like a pack leader, or a chief; command is in its blood, and that’s evident in the way it holds itself. And it’s intelligent, too—Shiro can _see_ cleverness and understanding in its golden eyes, in the way it studies them all, assessing, watching.   
  
Guardian of the skies. The great unifier. Suddenly the names make a lot more sense to Shiro than before.   
  
The others gasp and shift around him at the sight of the dragon. Distantly, Shiro hears Matt’s excited murmuring to his sister, and the scrape of charcoal and parchment as he scribbles notes. Red snorts a stream of fire and sidles protectively in front of Keith, and the other dragons adjust to shield their riders as well. Allura’s sudden gasp, as well as her rapid speech in Altean, both sound full of wonder and relief.  
  
The Nightfury catches all of it. Its eyes flick between each individual, each movement. It seems wary, watchful, but it cocks its head slightly when the other dragons shift protectively around their riders. It doesn’t seem to know what to make of those movements. Shiro finds that odd, for a so-called unifier.   
  
Allura takes a step forward. “It is well to see you’ve come, guardian—“  
  
But the dragon turns its head to her suddenly and snarls, showing a mouthful of teeth warningly. Its pupils are still slits, and the ear-like flaps around its head are flat to its neck. The creature looks almost demonic in the gloom, a terrifying face that melts perfectly into the shadows. Allura freezes, and respectfully takes a step back.   
  
The dragon’s snarl quiets, but it still looks wary. It opens its jet black wings, and Shiro realizes the creature is about to flee. But when it moves it raises its body a little higher, and in the flickering firelight Shiro realizes the v-shape on its chest isn’t a lighter patch of markings at all—it’s scarring and damaged scales.   
  
“They hurt you too, didn’t they?” Shiro says out loud, before he can stop himself.   
  
The dragon freezes, and turns its golden eyes on him. Their eyes lock, and Shiro feels like this creature is staring into his _soul_. But it’s not like the carvings, when it felt as though they looked at his actions and judged him unworthy. This dragon seems to see _all_ of him.   
  
And more importantly, he feels like he’s staring into the _dragon’s_ soul. In a single lightning moment he understands it—no, _her_ —and he knows they have more in common than either of them first realized. They are leaders, born to command, trusted by their followers. They both want more than anything to stop this war, to protect their peoples. They both want peace, but know it may only be obtainable through combat and strength.   
  
And they’ve both suffered at the hands of the Galra.  
  
“You tried to fight and you paid for it,” Shiro says slowly, gaze still locked with the dragon. “You tried to answer the call years ago, and humans turned on you. No wonder you haven’t come when we’ve called until now. Why would you bother to believe us if all it’s gotten you is injured? You don’t have a reason to believe this partnership is _real._ ”   
  
The Nightfury lets out a soft warble in her throat. It sounds hesitant and confused, and she cocks her head at him slowly.  
  
“Me, too.” Shiro gestures slowly with his missing arm. “I’ve paid for it, too.”   
  
The Nightfury’s eyes drop to his right arm, and long hook currently attached. Her gaze flicks back up to his again a moment later, but Shiro notices her pupils aren’t quite as narrow and vicious-looking as before, and the nubs around her head aren’t quite so flat.   
  
Shiro is distantly aware of the others watching him now, and he can feel the gazes of both riders and dragons alike on him. He ignores all of them. HIs attention is only on the Nightfury, and his words are meant for her. “You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I swear—we’re on your side. All of us are. We’ve fought hard to protect both humans and dragons, on every island we can reach from here. None of us like what the Galra are doing, and we don’t intend to let them keep hurting people _or_ dragons. And we’re doing it together, riders and dragons working as one.   
  
“And you have every right to be wary of us. I don’t know _what_ the Galra did to you, but I can see it hasn’t helped your view of humans. But I know you want to fight them. I can feel it. And it’s hard to do that alone, but you don’t have to.” He gestures with his left hand, towards the others, before holding it out in offering. “You’re welcome to join with us. Give us a chance to prove ourselves—show that humans and dragons _can_ work together. We could use your help, now more than ever. And maybe you could use ours.”  
  
The Nightfury lets out another low warble, but it seems more intrigued this time. Slowly, she lowers her paws and crawls down the length of the upright statue, and sidles forward towards Shiro carefully. She still moves with a wariness to each step, and Shiro is reminded of a stalking wildcat with how deliberate each movement is. Her eyes watch his right arm with particular unease, and he knows she’s cautious of human weapons after whatever encounter she’s had in the past.   
  
But for all her wariness she’s brave enough to keep coming, and he respects her for that. He turns his right arm away, and stretches out his left hand towards her, ignoring the whispers he can hear all around him. He stops before his arm is fully extended, and lets her make the decision. If she chooses to join them at all, it absolutely has to be because she trusts them enough to do so—not because she feels forced.   
  
The Nightfury halts a short distance from his palm, and stares at him for a long moment. Shiro doesn’t move—no threatening movements, no insistent gestures. The entire plateau has gone dead silent. She cocks her head, and seems to be considering—and then in one smooth movement, closes her eyes and presses her nose against Shiro’s palm.  
  
And in that moment, everything seems to _click,_ and he knows instantly that _this_ is his dragon. This is his partner. And any doubt he ever had about if he was meant to be a rider vanishes.   
  
“I don’t believe it,” he hears somebody muttering to the side. “All this time Shiro’s been dragon-less, and it turns out he gets a _Nightfury._ ” Someone else lets out an impressed whistle. Distantly, Shiro can still hear the scrape of charcoal on parchment, and knows Matt’s still sketching up a storm.   
  
“I hate to interrupt the moment,” someone interjects—Keith, Shiro realizes. “But Nightfury or not, we’ve still got incoming Galra ships. What are we doing? Fight, or run?”  
  
Shiro shakes his head as if coming out of a trance, and the Nightfury does much the same, flicking her ear nubs. Shiro looks around at the whole alliance—all of them, standing proud around the edges of the Altar of Storms. They’re all staring back at him, waiting for a decision, even Allura and Coran.  
  
Shiro grins, and looks back down at his dragon. _His_ partner—the thought is still exhilarating. “Want to wreck a Galra fleet?” he asks her. “This fight isn’t on their terms anymore—they won’t be expecting the guardian they’ve been so scared of to show up.”   
  
The Nightfury’s pupils slide to slits, and her jaws open to show sharp teeth—but she, too, almost seems to be grinning.   
  
“Alright, then,” Shiro says. He reaches out and almost hesitantly strokes his left hand over her head, between the ear nubs. She seems surprised by this for a moment, but then closes her eyes and croons softly, clearly enjoying the touch.  
  
“You’ll need a riding harness,” Allura says, stepping forward respectfully. The Nightfury seems wary of her for a moment and bares her teeth, but Shiro strokes her head again, and she calms a moment later. “The sky guardians are the fastest dragons alive; you’ll find it difficult to ride bareback. Fortunately, we’ve several from the days of Altea on the _Lioness_ , if this guardian will deign to take one.”   
  
Shiro glances at his dragon. “You okay with that?”  
  
The Nightfury snorts, and nudges her head gently against his hip. When she looks up again, he swears she’s still grinning, although this smile seems a little gummier than before. Huh. Retractable teeth? Interesting feature for a dragon.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Shiro says. “Everyone come here,” he adds, gesturing with what’s left of his right arm for them to come closer. “I’ve got a plan, but it’ll take tight coordination to manage it…”


	7. Windsong

They attack at midnight. It means Sendak’s fleet is close enough for the dragons to strike from the island without tiring themselves out on a long flight, but not close enough that Sendak’s fighters have any chance of gaining ground on Arus itself.   
  
It also means they have the cover of almost perfect darkness. The moon is out, but there’s a thick cloud cover that keeps hiding it, and the sky is pitch black.   
  
The Nightfury blends in perfectly with the darkness, as does the harness Coran had supplied from the old knights’ tack room on the _Lioness_. It’s an ancient thing, but still well made, and tailored specifically for a Nightfury’s build. It’s made of dark leather that blends with her scales well, and any metal clasps are dulled by charcoal to keep them from glinting in moonlight and giving away their position. It lets Shiro sit comfortably on her back, and gives him a few handholds to grip from the harness around her neck, just behind the ear nubs. Coran’s even modified one of the holds with a temporarily metal bar, so he has something to grip with his right arm, using the long hook he’s attached for this purpose.  
  
It’s not any kind of bridle or reins, though, and Shiro is acutely aware that the Nightfury is ultimately still in control of how they move. He is not a master, he is a passenger. The Nightfury, for her part, accepts the harness with dignity and grace. The fact that she permits him to sit on her back at all is already a strong indication of trust.   
  
Now, they stand on the edge of the plateau, overlooking the ocean. In the distance, they can see the first of the flickering torches on Sendak’s ships. He isn’t even trying to hide that he’s coming; he brazenly flaunts his strength, fully expecting he’ll win.   
  
He doesn’t know what’s waiting for him in the dark. He doesn’t know they have a new ally and a new surprise in store for him.  
  
“Remember,” Shiro says, turning to look at the other dragon riders. “Wait for our signal. It’s not safe to approach until we do.”  
  
“Are you _sure_ , Shiro?” Keith asks, looking uneasy. The braziers have been put out now, but even in the gloom, Shiro can see his knuckles are white on Red’s spiraling horns. The others look just as hesitant.   
  
“Yes,” Shiro says. “You’ll stand out, and they’re expecting you. They won’t see us coming. This first part, we do alone.” He pats the Nightfury on the head gently, and feels her rumbling in agreement beneath him.   
  
“None of us have flown for the first time into odds _this_ bad,” Matt points out, a little hesitantly.   
  
“We’ll be fine,” Shiro repeats. “Have a little faith.” Though, truth be told, he’s not sure how well this will work. He’s flown passenger on the backs of everyone else’s dragons loads of times, and he knows how to shift his weight with the creature and not make things more difficult for them. But being a passenger is a far cry from being a dragon’s rider, and he knows it won’t be as simple as that.  
  
Still, they don’t have a choice. Now that they have a reasonable chance to fight back, and some element of surprise, they need to take it. The _Lioness_ is too big a loss to take, and they can’t afford to give Sendak the impression that he can walk all over them.   
  
And besides, this is a fight both Shiro and the Nightfury have been _wanting._ It’s a chance to finally prove they are more than their situations have made them. To fight back with purpose, as a team. To make a difference, not just to the world but in themselves. And neither of them are going to back down now. Shiro can feel it in the set of the Nightfury’s shoulders and in her low growls, and he can tell she can sense it in him somehow, too.  
  
“Be careful, Shiro,” Allura says. “You and the sky guardian, both. Coran and I will not be able to provide much assistance with the battle out so far, but we wish you fare winds and fierce battle.”   
  
“Thanks.” Shiro runs a hand over the Nightfury’s head one last time. “Ready?” She growls in answer, shaking her head, and he can feel how eager she is. He grins, and secures his hand carefully in the holds just behind her head. “Okay. Then let’s go.”  
  
And she does—straight up into the air.  
  
For a moment Shiro is caught breathless at the sheer _speed_ of it. This is nothing like when the other dragons take off. It’s less like riding on the back of a creature, and more like riding a crackling bolt of dark lightning straight into the sky. He almost loses his grip, and for a heart-stopping moment finds himself sliding backwards off of her towards the island already so many feet below. He hears her yowl of alarm, and realizes that she’s not used to carrying a passenger either, and his weight shift is throwing off her balance.  
  
But then something _clicks_ again, just like when they first bonded only hours before. He yanks himself forward on the saddle again by the handholds, and presses himself closer against her neck, gripping with his upper legs to hold on. At the same time, she adjusts her angle just slightly to accommodate for a rider. And then they’re in sync again, with Shiro streamlined against her scales, reducing resistance in the wind and moving with her in a completely different way than he has riding passenger on any of the other dragons. And they rocket upward, up to the clouds.   
  
Shiro has flown dozens of times now with the others, but for the first time, he feels _alive_ in the air.   
  
This is more than just _flight_. This is more than just riding on dragon-back. This is harnessing the power of the storm itself, and he can feel deep in his heart that he was _born_ for this.   
  
He’s never flown on his own before, but somehow he just _knows_ how to work with this dragon; it’s like they’re connected on another level. He streamlines when she needs speed, tilts his body with her to help with turns, knows when to hold on tight and tuck close for twists and spins. It’s like it’s all in his blood. She dances and plays on the winds, grace and power all in one. He can feel her connection to the sky and the stars, and revels in the realization that she’s chosen to share that with him.  
  
This is where he _belongs_. And he will _never_ let Sendak, or the Galra, or anyone else take that from him, or her, not while he still draws breath.   
  
“You ready?” he calls to her, one last time. Her ears flick, and he feels her rumble of agreement beneath him. “Good. Let’s do this. Remember—go for the winches first and ballistae first. We take those out, the others can come in to help us.”  
  
The Nightfury snorts in agreement. She does an artful spinning loop in the air—Shiro leans in close against her neck and turns with her to assist like she’s an extension of himself—and folds her wings around herself as she dives.   
  
Straight for the flagship of the approaching fleet below them.  
  
The Nightfury is like an arrow, straight and true, as she shoots directly downward. It’s an incredible speed that she picks up, even with a passenger, and Shiro finds himself grateful for Allura insisting on a harness. As they drop Shiro picks out the same high-pitched noise whistling around his ears as before, when the dragon first appeared; it’s like the wind itself sings as they race ever downward to enter battle.  
  
Then he feels the Nightfury draw breath, and she fires her first blast of flames. They’re beautiful to look at, purple-white and condensed into an intense sphere, and there’s so much power to them. The shot smashes into the closest winch and chain before the crew is even aware that they’re there, and the whole thing shatters on impact, sending metal shrapnel everywhere.  
  
The Nightfury adjusts her speed immediately, and swoops from the dive into a shockingly fast flight parallel to the ocean itself. She ducks and dives between masts and ropes with speed and skill, almost too fast for Shiro to follow. Between the dark and their speed he has difficulty making out the objects around them, and that makes his reactions to her movements a fraction too slow, in ways that could foul them both up alarmingly at these speeds.  
  
 _She knows what she’s doing,_ he reminds himself. _She’s acclimated to this speed even if you aren’t. Trust her._ He squeezes his eyes shut, and concentrates on just feeling her movements, shifting his own body to assist with tucks and turns, pressing closer when she flaps for more speed. It works, and he can feel he’s not pushing her own minute adjustments out of alignment with his human hesitation.   
  
Working together, they clear four more winches and ballistae before they finish their first pass through the fleet. It takes almost that long for the Galra to figure out what’s happening to their ships—the Nightfury is all but invisible even now, blending in with the darkness and the stars. But when the Nightfury comes around for a second pass, this one perpendicular to their first, the Galra finally seem to figure out that they’re under attack from a dragon. Shiro can hear Sendak bellowing orders from his main ship, and seconds later he hears the unmistakable metal _clang_ of one of the grappling hook launchers firing.  
  
 _“Roll!”_ he yells, already tilting his body to the left. The dragon starts for a second at the noise of the launcher, clearly unfamiliar with the danger. But as soon as he starts moving she moves with him, tucking her wings in close and spinning sideways. Shiro hears the whistle of the metal hook and chain as it goes shooting past his right ear, missing them by only a foot. The Nightfury doesn’t hesitate, and fires a new blast at the offending weapon, incinerating it.  
  
The Galra keep coming, launching more thick arrows and chained hooks. But they never hit. The Nightfury might know flight, but Shiro knows the Galra, and knows their weaponry, knows their ways. Between the two of them, they’re nearly untouchable as they strafe the fleet a second time, targeting more of the biggest threats for the rest of the riders.   
  
Then the Nightfury sails over open sea again, second pass complete. Shiro blinks his eyes open again, and glances over his shoulder. Several of the decks are smoldering, and he can see burning ballistae and melting grapple launchers. “Did we get enough?” he calls to his dragon.   
  
She growls. He swears it sounds pleased.   
  
“Looks good enough to me,” Shiro says. “Let’s signal and go back for a third pass while the others come.”   
  
The Nightfury roars in agreement, and spins, belly up to the stars. Shiro holds on tight with his knees and digs his fingers into the harness straps, and watches around her neck as she fires point-blank into the air. The purple-white ball of flames shoots skyward and bursts in a shower of sparks. She flips back upright almost as fast as she twisted upside down, already flapping her wings to circle back around towards the Galra.  
  
Their third pass is just as successful, and they destroy three more winches while darting out of range of arrows and hooks. But then the Nightfury yowls in surprise, and Shiro opens his eyes to see the pass taking them straight past Sendak himself on the flagship. The man is massive even by Galra standards, a brute who’s lost both an eye and an arm at some point, but that doesn’t hold him back any. Even as Shiro watches, he whips a chain and hook like a bola in his hand, and glares hatefully at both man and dragon as they pass.   
  
“Look out for that—“ Shiro warns, alarmed.   
  
Sendak flings the hook with incredibly accuracy and even more frightening speed. The Nightfury starts to roll aside, but Shiro’s not sure it will be fast enough—  
  
—and a massive spine hits the hook in mid-air, knocking it off course. Lance swoops by overhead on Skyscale, whooping gleefully, “Somebody call the cavalry?”  
  
“No!” Sendak snarls, eyes wide.   
  
Red and Keith come in next. Red’s whole body is alight with flames as she soars past the fleet’s masts, setting each one alight, and Keith’s eyes glitter in the flames of his dragon. With the threat of the ballistae and grapple launchers mostly gone, the two are able to make a straight pass unhindered, and within moments half the fleet is on fire.   
  
The Nightfury spins and darts up higher into the air, and from the new vantage point Shiro can see the others at work. Pidge and Matt are already circling the outer fleet, trailing clouds of noxious gas in a circle around the ships. Once the ships are surrounded by the flammable gas, Pidge and Flint ignite it, setting several of the ships Keith and Red hadn’t hit alight as well. And Hunk and Lance, along with their dragons, are systematically targeting the Galra warriors to keep the rest of the team covered and provide defense. Lance and Skyscale both snipe attackers with incredible accuracy, and Hunk and Ironheart take the more direct approach, by simply bowling over and knocking out any warrior unfortunate enough to get in their way.  
  
It’s an incredible show of teamwork, really. Soaring above them all, for the first time able to observe from a distance, Shiro can’t help but be amazed at seeing them all working together so perfectly. It’s like they’re one single unit, all individual pieces completely in sync, working towards a greater goal.   
  
The Nightfury rumbles, and her head twists back enough to stare at him one gold eye. Shiro grins. “Yeah, I know. Let’s not let them have all the fun.”   
  
She roars in agreement, and twists into another spectacular dive, entering the fray once more.  
  
In the end it’s barely a contest. What had been a battle set up perfectly in Sendak’s favor had fallen apart the moment the surprise element of the Nightfury was added. With half of his anti-dragon weapons destroyed before he or his fleet could even fathom what was attacking them, and the rest of the alliance working in unison so perfectly, Sendak is outclassed quickly. And he knows it. Most of his fleet is in flame, sinking into the depths, in the span of an hour.   
  
Sendak, and few soldiers with him, manage to escape on a single badly damaged but not completely destroyed ship. Shiro lets them go, although it would be child’s play for him and the Nightfury to catch up, and for the rest of the dragon riders to bring it down. But Shiro wants Sendak to return to his leaders with a message: they will _not_ be pushed around so easily. They will _fight._ And they will not allow these horrific acts any further, not even if the Galra themselves try to bring the fight to the alliance.  
  
It’s in an exhausted but exhilarated state that the team finally returns to Arus. The dragons land tiredly on the decks of the _Lioness,_ but they all seem pleased with themselves. Their riders dote on them affectionately, caring for their exhausted partners, and Matt sets to work examining the injuries of dragon and rider alike.   
  
Allura and Coran are both exhilarated. “You did it!” Allura says, delighted. She looks fierce and proud, every inch a warrior princess, as she stands tall and congratulates them. “Excellent job, warriors. Truly the Galra have been shown the dragon alliance is a force to be reckoned with!”   
  
“Everyone did good work,” Shiro agrees, as he slides off the Nightfury’s back. She croons softly in her throat, and seems less agitated at the proximity of the others now compared to when she’d first arrived at the Altar of Storms. That battle of man and dragon alike seems to have sparked some sort of trust for the rest of them in her…and he can see it in the other dragons as well. Already they seem to be acting with deference around her, showing her respect, like she’s proven herself as some kind of pack leader.   
  
The great unifier. Kings and queens amongst dragons. Shiro supposes that makes sense.   
  
“Those guys are gonna regret coming after us,” Lance crows excitedly. “Bet that’s the last we see of’em!”  
  
“I doubt it,” Keith says flatly. “Sendak’s a lot of things, but not a coward. He’ll be back.”  
  
“I agree,” Shiro says, “But not before he’s reported back to his leaders. He doesn’t have a choice there. That buys us at least a little time.”  
  
Coran nods, pulling at his mustache. “This place won’t be safe for much longer. But it should be enough time to finish fixing up the _Lioness_. Then we can move on, and start freeing other locations from the Galra Clan. We’ve done just about all we can do from this base of operations, anyway.”  
  
“I still don’t feel right leaving the Altar unguarded,” Allura says, shaking her head. “It’s sacred. It’s not right.”   
  
“They don’t actually know the _Altar_ is here though, do they?” Matt asks.   
  
Pidge brightens. “Oh, I get it. If they’re not coming here for the Altar of Storms specifically, but just because _we’re_ here, then we just mislead them. Make sure there are some obvious sightings of us far enough away that it’s clear we’re not here anymore.”  
  
“Then they go after us and forget about this place,” Hunk agrees. “After we trashed a major fleet like that, they’ll _definitely_ pick us over the island we were staying on. Not really a huge fan of being bait, but if this place needs to be protected…”  
  
“We can worry about that later!” Lance says. “C’mon. Guys. That was an incredible battle, and we did an awesome job. I say we _celebrate_ first. We won, _and_ Shiro’s a rider now, too. What’s _not_ to celebrate?”  
  
Several of the dragons growl and roar in agreement, and Shiro looks down as he feels the Nightfury’s head nudge gently against his hip. She lets out a low, companionable warble, and Shiro runs a hand over her head scales, still in awe of the creature that’s now his partner.   
  
Yeah. This…this is _definitely_ worth celebrating.

* * *

 

  
Three weeks later, the _Lioness_ finally sets sail from Arus, for the first and last time. And for the first time in a century, since the fall of Altea and the escape of the royal flagship, it leaves with a vanguard of dragons circling it.  
  
Allura doesn’t look behind as the ship finally exits the cove after its months-long stay. Since she was born, since the first day her father held her while on the deck, since the first time she stood on it herself next to him, she has always learned to never look back. The future is forward, and the future is what they strive for.   
  
One day, she will rebuild Altea again.   
  
The riders help maneuver the ship, using the dragons to haul it with ropes. But once in open sea, the _Lioness_ is easy to guide, even with only two crew members on the deck itself. And of course, Allura’s special little friends, the four Terrible Terrors that insisted on coming with her rather than returning to their flock, are of great assistance in that regard.   
  
They sail for the course the alliance had decided upon after days of discussion, using the maps Matt had provided from the old viking great hall. They will make as much distance from Arus and the Altar of Storms as they can, and then create several deliberate sightings near Galra warships or posts to make it clear they’re in new waters. Hopefully, the Galra will be so obsessed with taking down the thorn in their side they will not even consider the island the alliance had been hiding on.   
  
It’s the best she can do to protect the Altar, at any rate.  
  
The _Lioness_ sails smoothly, and as Allura keeps her hands on the wheel, she watches the riders soaring about them. They all fly in lazy swoops, or soar on the breeze. Pidge, Matt, and Hunk are content to merely fly alongside the ship, discussing technical improvements amongst themselves, while Lance and Keith appear to be embroiled in another contest of skills on the backs of Skyscale and Red. At the bow of the ship, some distance in front, Shiro and Windsong read the breeze and guide the _Lioness,_ soaring effortlessly.  
  
“It truly is amazing,” Coran says beside her. “My family has passed down the stories, but never in my lifetime did I expect to see the _Lioness_ sail with a full wing of dragon riders.”   
  
“Indeed,” Allura says. “Or that one of the guardians of the sky would really return.”  
  
Coran offers her an apologetic look. “I am sorry the dragon didn’t choose you, princess. I know you had tried to bond with one for quite some time…and that you always wished to partner with one when you were younger, and first heard the stories.”  
  
Allura smiles a little wistfully, but shakes her head. “There is nothing to be sorry for. She made her choice, and she chose well. The unifiers are indications of strong leadership, but not necessarily of royalty. Shiro is a strong and capable leader. The humans and dragons both trust him. It is no wonder she never came to my call—she only appeared when he did. And their bond is already so strong. I would not begrudge that for a moment.”  
  
Coran smiles at her. “Your father would be so proud of you, princess.”  
  
“If only he could see this now,” Allura says, watching Lance and Keith playing a diving game with their dragons, to see which team will pull up first. “He never would have expected vikings to be the one to revitalize the dragon bond…or that it would come so strongly with so many. But I think he would have been happy to see it all the same. It is very nearly a miracle of the gods.”  
  
“The first of many, I hope,” Coran says brightly. “If this is possible after a hundred years, then perhaps Altea can be restored yet.”  
  
“Yes,” Allura agrees fiercely. In that, she will never give up, not until her dying breath. “But before that is even a slight possibility, the Galra must be defeated first.”   
  
The blue Terrible Terror lands on one of her shoulders, and she strokes its head absently while the others flutter about her. She watches Lance and Skyscale squawk indignantly at Keith and Red, who argue back fiercely. She watches the animated way Pidge, Hunk and Matt all speak with each other, and the way their dragons fly in sync with one another, so calm and unafraid of one another. In the distance, she watches Shiro and Windsong soar high into the air, dancing on the winds in a moment of clear joy and excitement.   
  
They may be small in number, and they may lack experience. But there’s more heart and more fierce determination to this little crew than she ever imagined, and more pure trust and loyalty between man and dragon than she ever thought possible. The battles will be hard and long, but she has no doubt they _will_ be victorious, and the Galra will finally crumble after their hundred years of tyranny.   
  
The Knights of the Wing will see to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading. This was a fun little world to play in :)


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